tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308710728301360092019-03-21T02:09:01.435-07:00Comfort TVDavid Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.comBlogger257125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-4555046823756498072019-03-20T21:11:00.000-07:002019-03-20T21:11:32.131-07:00Top TV Moments: Gregory Sierra <br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">We live in a time when diversity and inclusion are paramount when it comes to television casting. Those who champion this approach often cite the contrast between our current era and what they consider to be less enlightened times, when (they assert) actors of non-white races and ethnicities did not have the same access to significant series roles. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">At a macro level this is undeniable – yet I always cringe when the classic TV era is dismissed as one that denied acknowledgement and opportunities to what we now refer to as “people of color.” There are just too many examples to refute that condemnation. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">The career of Gregory Sierra, born in New York and of Puerto Rican descent, is one that could be cited by both sides of this debate.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PHXfi499b7E/XJMKSG9dASI/AAAAAAAADKE/gVrXZhPL-IAL-PqA37YeWwwcO569lxEuQCLcBGAs/s1600/86adc4f682597cc9051237282480118d--miami-vice-sierra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="736" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PHXfi499b7E/XJMKSG9dASI/AAAAAAAADKE/gVrXZhPL-IAL-PqA37YeWwwcO569lxEuQCLcBGAs/s400/86adc4f682597cc9051237282480118d--miami-vice-sierra.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">His TV resume is dominated by Latino roles, ranging from servants to South American dictators. But he also played doctors and police officers and other characters where his heritage was not a defining characteristic. He worked steadily and often across a 40-year span, and was not limited to portraying one ethnicity, though he'd likely be even more fondly recalled today were it not for some unfortunate career choices. Let's take a look at some of his most memorable TV moments.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">It Takes a Thief (1969)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">In “Rock-Bye, Bye Baby,” reformed thief Al Mundy has to break into an un-crackable safe to steal the little black book of a mob boss. In his first TV role Gregory Sierra’s character gets a name – Fletcher – but no lines. He appears in one short scene, mostly with his back to the camera, as a hood fencing stolen jewelry. The best part of this substandard episode is Gavin McLeod as a sniveling hood that Mundy repeatedly humiliates, even while being held at gunpoint. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Sanford and Son (1972)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Sierra made his first of 12 episodes appearances as Fred’s neighbor Julio Fuentes in “The Puerto Ricans are Coming!” Fred’s reaction?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“There goes the neighborhood.” “There wasn’t one cockroach in Harlem before the Puerto Ricans moved in,” he tells Lamont, and he was just getting warmed up. “Julio Fuentes? That don’t sound like no name – that sounds like somethin’ you get from drinkin’ their water.” The entire episode is mainly Redd Foxx, a force of nature here as always, going full Don Rickles on Puerto Rico, at a time when it was still safe to laugh at this stuff. Sierra’s Julio does not respond in kind, and thus emerges as the better man, but not the more memorable character.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OHxGlFLKrNA/XJMJZecUY0I/AAAAAAAADJg/ghhOhhQlCCwUsL2vLwMz6de4XOLlqre1ACLcBGAs/s1600/AllSan1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="450" height="292" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OHxGlFLKrNA/XJMJZecUY0I/AAAAAAAADJg/ghhOhhQlCCwUsL2vLwMz6de4XOLlqre1ACLcBGAs/s400/AllSan1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">All in the Family (1973)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Norman Lear must have liked something in Sierra beyond Julio, as he offered him a more substantial role in his flagship series. In “Archie is Branded,” Sierra plays Jewish radical Paul Benjamin, who believes in meeting violence with violence against the modern-day Nazis who paint a swastika on Archie’s door.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EC1yZJewWcM/XJMJpOyY8LI/AAAAAAAADJw/wlxPy6b7e3EfUGd1uMNVzsWuM6IPIDA9wCLcBGAs/s1600/16x9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="600" height="180" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EC1yZJewWcM/XJMJpOyY8LI/AAAAAAAADJw/wlxPy6b7e3EfUGd1uMNVzsWuM6IPIDA9wCLcBGAs/s320/16x9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">This episode ranks among the most memorable with many series fans, especially with its powerful ending, and Sierra makes his biggest and best impression yet as a talented character actor.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/luKdU-uz7_M/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/luKdU-uz7_M?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Optima;"></span> <div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">The Waltons (1973)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">From Puerto Rican to Jewish to Roma, as Sierra here plays one of a traveling band of gypsies that arrive on Walton’s Mountain and crash at the Baldwin home while the sisters are away. Some of the locals are hostile but John-Boy invites the gypsies, led by Sierra’s tempestuous Volta, to camp on their land. It’s a nice little culture-clash story and the best dramatic credit on the early part of the actor’s resume.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p2NXKEbu3RQ/XJMJ_xUAdMI/AAAAAAAADJ8/c4IBWbQBZnUkVU0itRIj3Puu7Wg2CE38wCLcBGAs/s1600/14A_00414100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="780" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p2NXKEbu3RQ/XJMJ_xUAdMI/AAAAAAAADJ8/c4IBWbQBZnUkVU0itRIj3Puu7Wg2CE38wCLcBGAs/s400/14A_00414100.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Barney Miller (1975)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">For casual TV fans, Detective Sergeant Chano Amenguale is certainly Gregory Sierra’s most familiar role. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Barney Miller</i> had one of those magical ensembles that clicked from day one. The series shined with smart writing, diversity that seemed natural and not forced, and what was probably a more realistic take on urban police work than some law and order dramas. I always enjoyed the camaraderie not just between the men of the 12<sup>th</sup>but between the cops and crooks, who often seemed to commiserate as they all tried survive another day in New York, at a time when that was no easy task. Chano was there for just the first two seasons. Why? That brings us to our next show.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qHyFCm_dr-A/XJMJi8huiBI/AAAAAAAADJo/j6VgpEGaTXcHd0osmIZtwZhTwyj8bEn1QCLcBGAs/s1600/34f1e6ab4bca677b4fbe3dd25a6f1a90.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="616" data-original-width="736" height="333" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qHyFCm_dr-A/XJMJi8huiBI/AAAAAAAADJo/j6VgpEGaTXcHd0osmIZtwZhTwyj8bEn1QCLcBGAs/s400/34f1e6ab4bca677b4fbe3dd25a6f1a90.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">A.E.S. Hudson Street (1978)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Sierra left <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Barney Miller</i> for a more prominent role in this new ABC sitcom from the same creative team. He played Tony Menzies, chief resident of a rundown New York hospital. I never saw it, so I don’t know if it deserved to be canceled after just five episodes. I do know that comedies set in hospitals have always been a tough sell on TV, at least until <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Scrubs</i>. I never saw that one either. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Soap (1980)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">“When there is a lady in distress</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">El Puerco will get into her dress”</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Unlike on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sanford and Son</i>, where Sierra merely did his best with a stereotypical role, he seems to be having the time of his life here as <span style="color: #222222;">Carlos "El Puerco" Valdez (his friends call him “El”) a khaki-clad revolutionary clearly modeled on Fidel Castro. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Soap</i>’s fourth and final season probably holds up better than you remember, and it still amazes me how it can switch from the silliest comedy to straight moments that really make you care about the characters.&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vn0JaJySioQ/XJMKbnHUBmI/AAAAAAAADKI/z4M_fexasZYkSmhbl-jf8K_0mF66FdqWwCLcBGAs/s1600/gs4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vn0JaJySioQ/XJMKbnHUBmI/AAAAAAAADKI/z4M_fexasZYkSmhbl-jf8K_0mF66FdqWwCLcBGAs/s400/gs4.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Lou Grant (1982)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Based on Sierra’s resume you might expect an episode titled “Immigrants” to focus on the Southern border, giving the actor another opportunity to play someone from a Hispanic nation. Surprise – the show is about the challenges faced by Vietnamese immigrants, one of whom becomes a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tribune</i>photographer. Sierra plays a state investigator looking into a welfare fraud scheme tied to the Vietnamese community. It’s just a two-scene appearance, but he’s proficient as always, and I’ll never pass up an opportunity to put in a good word for this series. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Hill Street Blues (1983)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Sierra appears as ADA Alvarez in four episodes of this acclaimed series’ third season. Like so many others who pass through this fictional world, Alvarez seemed fully formed after just a few moments on screen. He’s a small cog in an unwieldy criminal justice machine, who does the best he can while always aware it’s not enough. Once again, Sierra shows a chameleon-like quality in joining an established group and appearing as if he’s lived in that world the whole time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Zorro and Son (1983)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Five years after <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A.E.S. Hudson Street</i>, Sierra found his luck as a series regular had not improved. He plays Captain Paco Pico opposite Henry Darrow as Zorro, but once more it was five episodes and that's all she wrote. I loved that the show used the same theme as the 1950s classic starring Guy Williams. After that? Well, “hit and miss” might be generous, but with a game Sierra and a cast of comedy vets like Bill Dana, Barney Martin and Dick Gautier (as “El Excellente”) giving their all, you’ll likely laugh at least twice per episode.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BcqOytL2sXo/XJMJebBZ6YI/AAAAAAAADJk/muMMFurqRhIWVpyPmCg8vlJrGhcIIsc_ACLcBGAs/s1600/pico.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="702" height="270" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BcqOytL2sXo/XJMJebBZ6YI/AAAAAAAADJk/muMMFurqRhIWVpyPmCg8vlJrGhcIIsc_ACLcBGAs/s400/pico.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">Miami Vice (1984)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Optima;">This is the one that got away for Gregory Sierra, though he might not see it that way because he made the decision to leave. Had he not, he might be as well remembered today as Lt. Lou Rodriguez as he is for Chano. But he asked to be written out after just four episodes, apparently because he hated living in Miami. He was replaced by Edward James Olmos, who apparently liked the climate just fine.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-epSN2Mbkizw/XJMLGorkFJI/AAAAAAAADKU/cOz0nO-BwYAbZiHWgS4N6lW_mJwGoucWgCLcBGAs/s1600/gs3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-epSN2Mbkizw/XJMLGorkFJI/AAAAAAAADKU/cOz0nO-BwYAbZiHWgS4N6lW_mJwGoucWgCLcBGAs/s400/gs3.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} a:link, span.MsoHyperlink {mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-parent:""; color:blue; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed {mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; color:purple; mso-themecolor:followedhyperlink; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-63855530921954403522019-03-11T14:54:00.000-07:002019-03-11T14:54:39.007-07:00The Unshakeables: The Monkees on Tour<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’m sure the passing of Peter Tork sent many of us back to our Monkees CDs and DVDs and playlists. They remind us of happier, more innocent times, and ease the realization that 50 years have passed, and the icons of our childhoods are approaching their final bows, at least here in this imperfect world.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z37M0ZiTd1g/XIYBMwD6tRI/AAAAAAAADJA/NaZmYJpy4JwdG9_n7Sg8Q-e02cIcloO8wCLcBGAs/s1600/MV5BNWVjZDkzZmUtY2FjMS00ZmI0LTk1OWYtZGNjNDNmNGMwYzk2XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyODY0ODQ0NDc%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1333%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1333" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z37M0ZiTd1g/XIYBMwD6tRI/AAAAAAAADJA/NaZmYJpy4JwdG9_n7Sg8Q-e02cIcloO8wCLcBGAs/s400/MV5BNWVjZDkzZmUtY2FjMS00ZmI0LTk1OWYtZGNjNDNmNGMwYzk2XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyODY0ODQ0NDc%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1333%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Those who own the series or are catching up via Me-TV will likely begin their homage with “The Devil and Peter Tork.” It’s arguably the best of the show’s 58 episodes, which is surprising as it aired in the second and final season, when the group had already become indifferent to the series (something that, thankfully, never happened with the music). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But for me the most memorable episode was “The Monkees on Tour,” which closed out the first season on April 24, 1967.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">When Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider created the show, they never could have imagined a season one finale like this. But things happened fast in Monkee-land, as the series about a fictional band evolved in just months into a series featuring one of the most successful pop groups of the 1960s. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">By April of 1967, the Monkees had scored two #1 hits and two multi-million selling albums. Like Pinocchio after a visit from the Blue Fairy, they found themselves unexpectedly transformed from something fake into something real. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“The Monkees on Tour” chronicled the culmination of that realization. It’s an unscripted documentary that follows the group as they land in Phoenix for a live concert before more than 10,000 fans.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CaXPY8QF5rY/XIYAPvKzbvI/AAAAAAAADIo/lr-DuvGkII42Ov8nTMl9Y6188CEcKWmpACEwYBhgL/s1600/monkees-on-tour2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CaXPY8QF5rY/XIYAPvKzbvI/AAAAAAAADIo/lr-DuvGkII42Ov8nTMl9Y6188CEcKWmpACEwYBhgL/s400/monkees-on-tour2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Here, for the first time, the television audience is not seeing the Monkees as characters – dry-witted Mike, love-struck Davy, manic Micky and lovably dense Peter – but four talented singers and musicians with their own outside interests and personalities. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">After an intro segment filmed in Samantha and Darrin Stephens’ living room, we cut to an airport in Phoenix, where the band arrives by Lear jet, separated by a chain-link fence from throngs of screaming fans.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LHe_A26GS0E/XIYBY7kLvAI/AAAAAAAADJI/Xx6R3EEhIt83n9JA8MwdT_bSnLZqff1pACLcBGAs/s1600/boyceMonkees1164-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="250" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LHe_A26GS0E/XIYBY7kLvAI/AAAAAAAADJI/Xx6R3EEhIt83n9JA8MwdT_bSnLZqff1pACLcBGAs/s400/boyceMonkees1164-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">What follows is an oddly compelling mix of schtick, sentiment and Cinéma vérité, as cameras follow the quartet through room service breakfasts, horseback rides and dirt bike jumps, shenanigans at department stores and radio stations, and finally backstage for the concert.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z7wlmFkbP3w/XIYA_HE-MlI/AAAAAAAADI4/apwOZmZd564AF9LR0fOV2i3WGzrKu6QagCLcBGAs/s1600/MV5BNjEwNTg2M2ItZjAyZi00ZDlmLWJhNDYtOGEwYjc4NjY2ZmE4XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyODY0ODQ0NDc%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1333%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1333" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z7wlmFkbP3w/XIYA_HE-MlI/AAAAAAAADI4/apwOZmZd564AF9LR0fOV2i3WGzrKu6QagCLcBGAs/s400/MV5BNjEwNTg2M2ItZjAyZi00ZDlmLWJhNDYtOGEwYjc4NjY2ZmE4XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyODY0ODQ0NDc%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1333%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">As this is the only footage that exists of the first Monkees concert tour, my only regret about this episode is that we don’t see more of it. Granted, the snippets we get of “Last Train to Clarksville” and “Steppin’ Stone” are almost inaudible over the cacophony of audience shrieking. But it still would have been a treat (as well as a rejoinder to those who claimed the band couldn’t play) to show at least one song performed from start to finish.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Iqp_WklK9hE/XIYA5O19GbI/AAAAAAAADI0/p37ZzCGEGpIuQ_-Lem6mV_IT5l00mIT1gCLcBGAs/s1600/MV5BYjI3YzE5NjAtOTc5Yi00NzMzLTk5ZGItNjM0Mjg3NTVkMmUzXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyODY0ODQ0NDc%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1333%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1333" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Iqp_WklK9hE/XIYA5O19GbI/AAAAAAAADI0/p37ZzCGEGpIuQ_-Lem6mV_IT5l00mIT1gCLcBGAs/s400/MV5BYjI3YzE5NjAtOTc5Yi00NzMzLTk5ZGItNjM0Mjg3NTVkMmUzXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyODY0ODQ0NDc%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1333%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">More interesting is the clips of each Monkee’s solo performance: Peter plays banjo and sings “Cripple Creek”; Mike plays maracas (!) and sings Bo Diddley’s “You Can’t Judge a Book By Its Cover”; Micky sings Ray Charles’ “I Got a Woman” while imitating James Brown, complete with cape routine; Davy is the only one who actually performs a Monkees song (“I Wanna Be Free”).&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-swrLvVRUWq8/XIYAj5ayZwI/AAAAAAAADIs/M3sTgTa2KcYI4WoP5ODvrPOaTxELn0DgACLcBGAs/s1600/MV5BYjQ2MDJlNmQtOWNlNS00ZDE0LWI0ZGEtOGQxMjU3YjhkMjgwXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyODY0ODQ0NDc%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1333%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1333" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-swrLvVRUWq8/XIYAj5ayZwI/AAAAAAAADIs/M3sTgTa2KcYI4WoP5ODvrPOaTxELn0DgACLcBGAs/s400/MV5BYjQ2MDJlNmQtOWNlNS00ZDE0LWI0ZGEtOGQxMjU3YjhkMjgwXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyODY0ODQ0NDc%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1333%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The audience loved everything, of course. They could have read excerpts from Anton Chekhov’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Cherry Orchard</i> and teen girls would still swoon. But the fact that they were allowed to do what they wanted in those solo spots is what makes them interesting. Here was a moment in Monkee history when these four guys went from being along for the ride to deciding they’d rather drive the car. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’m not the only one who thought this episode was noteworthy. On the DVD release there are three separate commentary tracks for “The Monkees on Tour” from Peter Tork, Mike Nesmith and songwriter Bobby Hart. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“This is the only show where we weren’t pretending to be four starving, struggling musicians, but actually were a performing band,” Tork says. “It was our ability to play on stage that led us to think we could play on the records, which led to the recording of ‘Headquarters.’” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The episode closes with a reprise of the group at a Phoenix radio station, where Mike tells listeners “We'd like to thank everybody, for making it a great stay. We'd like to thank The Rolling Stones for being a great group. We'd like to thank The Mamas and Papas for making it good. We'd like to thank Lovin' Spoonful for making it happy, but most of all we'd like to thank the Beatles for starting it all up for us.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LtfU4jlDgig/XIYAINDJucI/AAAAAAAADIg/TBGl-4SsjLQmwlv4tT2jz_D_aN0DIoM9QCLcBGAs/s1600/MV5BN2ExZWE0YzYtM2QxOC00ZmVhLWJiMDQtZGIzMGVmYTA0YzhlL2ltYWdlL2ltYWdlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNDc4MTgwNDQ%2540._V1_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="704" height="306" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LtfU4jlDgig/XIYAINDJucI/AAAAAAAADIg/TBGl-4SsjLQmwlv4tT2jz_D_aN0DIoM9QCLcBGAs/s400/MV5BN2ExZWE0YzYtM2QxOC00ZmVhLWJiMDQtZGIzMGVmYTA0YzhlL2ltYWdlL2ltYWdlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNDc4MTgwNDQ%2540._V1_.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Fifty years later, Monkees fans would like to also thank The Monkees, for adding so many songs to the soundtracks of our lives.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/O1Rwx9FZzh0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/O1Rwx9FZzh0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-75154641536510320602019-03-01T13:25:00.000-08:002019-03-01T13:25:55.846-08:00The De-Valuation of Television<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">‘Last Call With Carson Daly’ to End NBC Run After Nearly Two Decades’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I was shocked by that headline in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Variety</i>. Not because the show was ending, but to learn that it had been on that long. Has it really been 17 years? I still think of Daly as the guy who played Britney Spears videos on MTV. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s amazing to me how many network shows (like that one) have been on 5-10 years or more, and I’ve never watched an episode of any of them. Same with the new shows that seemingly debut every week on Hulu and Netflix and other services.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Obviously I spend more time than most watching older shows, so it’s not surprising that I would not be aware of many current series. But I have a feeling I’m not alone.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FcHQCgWYwlE/XHipQW2_m8I/AAAAAAAADH0/-2em1o2H0ssZi4WfX4gR73zN5BHliyECACLcBGAs/s1600/watching_tv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="577" height="261" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FcHQCgWYwlE/XHipQW2_m8I/AAAAAAAADH0/-2em1o2H0ssZi4WfX4gR73zN5BHliyECACLcBGAs/s400/watching_tv.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In fact, I’m pretty certain that hundreds of television shows have debuted and disappeared over the past 20 years, with the majority of the country unaware of their existence. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">These include critically acclaimed series like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel</i>, winner of eight Emmys, plus Golden Globes and Screen Actors Guild awards. According to Nielsen, that series averaged 1.9 million viewers per episode. That is 0.57% of the U.S. population. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Imagine what would happen if someone made a reference to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel</i> at a party or a business meeting: what is the likelihood that those in attendance would get it? And that’s a current show –&nbsp;what if someone made that reference 20 years from now?&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CRehNL_NewU/XHipctbUQyI/AAAAAAAADH4/blN4baqFU0ECZsrk7F9GXKt2UrTkMb4owCLcBGAs/s1600/the-marvelous-mrs-maisel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="726" height="223" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CRehNL_NewU/XHipctbUQyI/AAAAAAAADH4/blN4baqFU0ECZsrk7F9GXKt2UrTkMb4owCLcBGAs/s400/the-marvelous-mrs-maisel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">For most of its history that’s not how television worked. While there have always been movies, plays and books that went virtually unnoticed, television was different because all of it emanated from a single source, located in almost every home in America. Within that source there were just three national networks and a few local stations, so programming options were limited. We were all watching the same stuff. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">That’s why references to popular shows from the 1950s through the early1980s are still fairly common. It’s why generations of tourists who booked cruises thought about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Love Boat</i> as they began their trips; it’s why an overzealous cop might still be labeled a Barney Fife; it’s why <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fuller House</i> in 2018 could do a riff on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Charlie’s Angels</i> knowing most of its audience would be in on the jokes.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vV0pPli1fU4/XHiqBhw1XFI/AAAAAAAADIE/42A0DdGkF3Q2NjkUK2lYRGtyV0HPAWAtwCLcBGAs/s1600/512eae1c68e03430616b5b37aac24347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="604" height="316" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vV0pPli1fU4/XHiqBhw1XFI/AAAAAAAADIE/42A0DdGkF3Q2NjkUK2lYRGtyV0HPAWAtwCLcBGAs/s400/512eae1c68e03430616b5b37aac24347.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">You see the outpouring of sadness that followed the passing of Peter Tork, who starred on a series that debuted 50 years ago and lasted just two seasons. Sure, there was a musical component to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Monkees</i> that increased its pop culture profile, but the television show was the catalyst for those million-selling records.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dN2TB7FbUNY/XHiq6LBgmEI/AAAAAAAADIM/TWOTH5HxBnc1mV5eUunQ7t6N4Q-SOrjOwCLcBGAs/s1600/C1YdDyfno6S._SL1000_.png.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dN2TB7FbUNY/XHiq6LBgmEI/AAAAAAAADIM/TWOTH5HxBnc1mV5eUunQ7t6N4Q-SOrjOwCLcBGAs/s400/C1YdDyfno6S._SL1000_.png.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I just finished writing an article on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hee Haw</i> that will be published in a magazine this summer. Maybe you loved the show, maybe you hated it, but you know what it is. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">That’s what TV used to be. It was good or bad, but never invisible. It was prominent. It was important. It was arguably the primary source of entertainment and information for three generations of people throughout the western world.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jmA2_iph5Ag/XHirX02GBiI/AAAAAAAADIU/1R7xOAJOFyMnzor4YSFi3XxwtgVf83uggCLcBGAs/s1600/walter-cronkite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="495" data-original-width="495" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jmA2_iph5Ag/XHirX02GBiI/AAAAAAAADIU/1R7xOAJOFyMnzor4YSFi3XxwtgVf83uggCLcBGAs/s400/walter-cronkite.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Today television creates more shows than ever, but its impact on our culture is fleeting. It’s sad to think that quality shows are being missed by 99% of the country. And given the sheer volume of them, and the rapidity with which they come and go, we are at a point I never thought I’d see: a television series has been reduced to the impact of a YouTube video. It’s holds your interest for a few seconds, and then it disappears from the memory. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I know I’ve written about this before. But I think it’s a topic that is worth exploring more than once. It’s not every day that a major communication medium delivers more content than at any time in its history, while simultaneously becoming less relevant. I’d say that’s not a trend that bodes well for the future.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/P9gsFiLOkAY/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/P9gsFiLOkAY?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-82881596691118248032019-02-20T13:40:00.000-08:002019-02-20T13:40:11.187-08:00Mr. Novak: Purchase or Pass?<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">At a time when DVD sales are plummeting and the audience for shows more than 50 years old dwindles every day, it seems almost miraculous that Warner Archives would dig <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mr. Novak</i> out of its vault. The series aired for just two seasons from 1963-1965, and has not been syndicated often enough to build a following in the decades since.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BumdrCFAgLw/XGzRkxxGb_I/AAAAAAAADHE/oPe0IhqmYHEI9RBpV3sbwOGrPpbzzP0cACLcBGAs/s1600/MV5BYTE0MzMxM2QtZjhjZS00OTEyLWEyMzctMTI2Mzg4ODk3MzFlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzAwOTU1MTk%2540._V1_SY999_CR0%252C0%252C811%252C999_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="811" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BumdrCFAgLw/XGzRkxxGb_I/AAAAAAAADHE/oPe0IhqmYHEI9RBpV3sbwOGrPpbzzP0cACLcBGAs/s400/MV5BYTE0MzMxM2QtZjhjZS00OTEyLWEyMzctMTI2Mzg4ODk3MzFlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzAwOTU1MTk%2540._V1_SY999_CR0%252C0%252C811%252C999_AL_.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Yet here we are. And how fortunate we are at that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’ve always been a sucker for shows about teachers, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mr. Novak</i>ranks alongside <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Room 222</i> as the most admirable portrayal of that profession at the high school level. Taken together the two shows effectually bookend the 1960s, as turbulent a decade in education as it was everywhere else.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-56JOf7-pkKY/XGzRqBdVCJI/AAAAAAAADHI/i9Ir8oYeBUIg3125VNQ_w1tv1TvpdIYdACLcBGAs/s1600/41O8LNBNdZL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="352" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-56JOf7-pkKY/XGzRqBdVCJI/AAAAAAAADHI/i9Ir8oYeBUIg3125VNQ_w1tv1TvpdIYdACLcBGAs/s400/41O8LNBNdZL.jpg" width="281" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Here is another example of a television series from an era when the medium was perceived as not just a source of entertainment, but one capable of contributing to the betterment of society. As I wrote about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Adventures of Ozzie &amp; Harriet</i> a few years back, this was a time when shows about professions like that of teacher, or doctor, or police officer, would depict its subject in a way that would engender respect from the viewing public. It wasn’t done overtly to send that message; it was, rather, a natural consequence of the way a self-assured and principled nation would portray itself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Mr. Novak</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">stars James Franciscus as first-year teacher John Novak. The story goes that he was a finalist for the role of Dr. Kildare, but when that went to Richard Chamberlain he was given this series as a consolation prize. Franciscus was an actor with leading man looks, but not leading man charisma. This is the best credit on his resume, and thankfully he was able to raise his game enough to match the quality of the material.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/KrqfkmOY6DM/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KrqfkmOY6DM?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">One could see why he was considered for Kildare, as Novak is essentially the same character in a different profession. He’s a young crusader not yet beaten down by the pressures of the job, whose older colleagues sometimes become frustrated with his self-righteous rants. More than one teacher tells Novak he’s still “wet behind the ears.” There’s an expression you don’t hear much anymore. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Perhaps the best example of this is also one of the standout episodes of the first season. In “Pay the Two Dollars” Novak breaks up a fight between students and in the fracas one of the students is injured. The kid’s father sues the school district, and the district’s lawyer (Martin Landau, wonderful as always) suggests offering a settlement and quickly disposing of the case. Novak refuses, much to the consternation of the attorney and the entire district. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The 30 episodes that comprise season one take us through Novak’s first year at Jefferson High, from day one through the senior prom. Many feature stories that are staples of high school shows, from drug addiction to teacher crushes to teen pregnancy. There was also an apparent bigotry issue at Jefferson, as we get episodes about an African-American girl who is victimized by racial taunts, a Jewish student who faces anti-Semitism, and a Mexican student who believes his poor grades are a result of racism. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Thus far the Asian kids seem to be ok. But I haven’t watched season two yet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">My facetious tone aside, all of these stories are handled extremely well. The story about the attack on the African-American girl (“A Single Isolated Incident”) is particularly remarkable, especially in its closing assembly scene presided over by Principal Albert Vane, masterfully played by Dean Jagger.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hTBSPo_ZFV8/XGzSjyZ1XXI/AAAAAAAADHY/m51sX3WsRuMmbx49VnqWNAAOHdllWxSuACLcBGAs/s1600/Mr.%252BNovak5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="701" data-original-width="651" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hTBSPo_ZFV8/XGzSjyZ1XXI/AAAAAAAADHY/m51sX3WsRuMmbx49VnqWNAAOHdllWxSuACLcBGAs/s400/Mr.%252BNovak5.JPG" width="371" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It is Jagger who elevates <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mr. Novak</i> from a good series to a classic. There’s not a false note or moment in any of his scenes, which he dominates through the sheer power of his commanding personality. Plus he just looks like everybody’s high school principal. Jagger, who had already won an Academy Award, was nominated for an Emmy in both of the show’s two seasons. But back then the Emmys had temporarily abolished separate categories for comedy and drama, so he lost to the equally deserving Dick Van Dyke in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Dick Van Dyke Show</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">High school shows are challenging because to do them realistically (and that was certainly the goal here) you need a lot of extras to fill out the classrooms and the hallways and the cafeteria. You also need a faculty of other teachers, which requires a supporting cast that remains available to pop up for one scene here and there over the course of several months. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The series succeeds on both these criteria, with fine recurring appearances from Jeanne Bal (especially good as Assistant Principal Jean Pagano), Vince Howard, Stephen Franken and Marion Ross. Without a lot of screen time, all of them are interesting and believable as colleagues trying to keep chaos at bay every day in their respective offices and classrooms. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Special mention should also be made of Marian Collier as Miss Scott, the comely home economics teacher with whom Novak has an on-again, off-again romance. He could do a lot worse.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pNshIXaa4Xw/XGzSomjKQJI/AAAAAAAADHc/jcfZUZPLiWAzk0o4AVU1JQsLt6dSEM8mgCLcBGAs/s1600/MarianCollierNovak021d20e8c1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="591" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pNshIXaa4Xw/XGzSomjKQJI/AAAAAAAADHc/jcfZUZPLiWAzk0o4AVU1JQsLt6dSEM8mgCLcBGAs/s400/MarianCollierNovak021d20e8c1.jpg" width="307" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">You’ll also spot several familiar faces among the student population, including Shelley Fabares, Tony Dow, Frankie Avalon, Kim Darby, Bonnie Franklin, Walter Koenig, Brooke Bundy, Beau Bridges, Eddie Applegate and Marta Kristen. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The answer to the “purchase or pass” question is an enthusiastic “purchase.” This is a superbly written, honest series that may feature an idealized English teacher, but doesn’t avoid the harsh reality that some problems can’t be solved by a teacher, and some kids can’t be saved. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And for me, it is also a glimpse into a path not taken. Had I stayed with teaching 20 years ago I see in <i>Mr. Novak</i> what my day-to-day life might have been. I think I made the right choice. The only teachers that are truly great are those that can’t imagine doing anything else for a living. That wasn’t me – but it does describe John Novak.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kc6NwZ7J67s/XGzSzVlqK_I/AAAAAAAADHg/cFzKKeQeIGgkMhREoqaKZoGfqx4HjXXLgCLcBGAs/s1600/Novak-and-girls018-cropped-lower-res.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="581" data-original-width="730" height="317" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kc6NwZ7J67s/XGzSzVlqK_I/AAAAAAAADHg/cFzKKeQeIGgkMhREoqaKZoGfqx4HjXXLgCLcBGAs/s400/Novak-and-girls018-cropped-lower-res.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-3344187935649555412019-02-11T13:49:00.000-08:002019-02-11T13:49:41.021-08:00Terrible Shows I Like: Pink Lady and Jeff<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Fifteen years ago I was in the midst of writing a book called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What Were They Thinking: The 100 Dumbest Events in Television History</i>. Research required the tracking down of several infamous TV moments on videocassette, from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Joanie Loves Chachi</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dusty’s Trail</i> to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Goddess of Love</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Star Wars Holiday Special</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">One of the few series covered in the book that had already been released on DVD was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pink Lady and Jeff</i>.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C5IGv3qUH_8/XGDiB_R5fMI/AAAAAAAADGQ/7iNffNl8mEs7xGOD69s9kn1fyIYTo7B2gCLcBGAs/s1600/a886e602a4cbc970147c06b02c1f6fee38f908e9.96.2.9.2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="382" data-original-width="500" height="305" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C5IGv3qUH_8/XGDiB_R5fMI/AAAAAAAADGQ/7iNffNl8mEs7xGOD69s9kn1fyIYTo7B2gCLcBGAs/s400/a886e602a4cbc970147c06b02c1f6fee38f908e9.96.2.9.2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Today, I’m not sure where all those VHS tapes with the other shows went, but I still have my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pink Lady</i> DVDs. And I’ve watched them several times since that book was published. Yes, it’s a (mostly) terrible show. I said so in the book. But there’s something about the whole endeavor that I find irresistible. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I feel the same way about all of the variety shows from this era, so my defenses are down even for what is arguably the worst of them. They’re just so eager to please with their bright lighting and big smiles and upbeat songs. Disparaging all those happy faces feels like kicking a puppy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I cannot help but be impressed by the audacity of the concept. A major network takes a Japanese singing duo, who are unknown in America and can’t speak English, pairs them with a third-rate comedian, and gives them a weekly one-hour series. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But when you learn it was launched by Sid and Marty Krofft, suddenly it makes sense. Crazy for them is just another day at the office.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/DcJGGRyeLuQ/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DcJGGRyeLuQ?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">According to David Martindale’s book about Krofft TV, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pufnstuf &amp; Other Stuff</i>, Sid’s plan was to make the show even stranger than its premise, but his eccentricities were curbed by Fred Silverman, who just wanted to follow the format the Kroffts used for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Donny &amp; Marie</i>. One can only wonder what might have happened had Sid been given free rein. It likely still would have failed, but it would have done so even more unforgettably.&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">What emerged instead was as standard a variety show as one could expect from its assembled talent; Pink Lady, aka “Mie” and “Kei”, would open with a current hit like “Boogie Wonderland” or “Knock on Wood,” and then engage in comedic banter with Altman. They learned their lines and their songs phonetically, so most of the time they had no idea what they were saying. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">There were recurring skits, many featuring Jim Varney before he found fame in the Ernest movies. Altman’s imitations of Richard Nixon, Howard Cosell and Johnny Carson will only make you appreciate Rich Little more, but he does make me laugh as Art Nuvo, a fast-talking salesman in a rundown strip mall selling knockoffs of classic works of art. “Here we’ve got Gainesburger’s ‘Blue Boy.’ Don’t like blue? We’ve got it in green, in beige…”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M-brw9WtLi4/XGDiTxsTRsI/AAAAAAAADGY/NHQRWGSMUiADxFMDarYxpO-l8TjRlY0EQCLcBGAs/s1600/pinkladyandjeffepisode2.0202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M-brw9WtLi4/XGDiTxsTRsI/AAAAAAAADGY/NHQRWGSMUiADxFMDarYxpO-l8TjRlY0EQCLcBGAs/s400/pinkladyandjeffepisode2.0202.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And of course there were guest stars. That’s always part of the fun. Within these six episodes (that’s all there were) you’ll spot Jerry Lewis and Lorne Greene, Sid Caesar and Florence Henderson, Larry Hagman at the height of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dallas</i>-mania, Teddy Pendergrass (whose cover of “On Broadway” is the series musical highlight) and Hugh Hefner singing “My Kind of Town (Chicago)” with Pink Lady dressed as Playboy bunnies.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CLverLUWf00/XGDiaLqk_OI/AAAAAAAADGc/7yqXc_SYctkWc3zaI6fK9cmuqVkj_Rs7gCLcBGAs/s1600/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CLverLUWf00/XGDiaLqk_OI/AAAAAAAADGc/7yqXc_SYctkWc3zaI6fK9cmuqVkj_Rs7gCLcBGAs/s400/hqdefault.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Pink Lady and Jeff</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> debuted on March 1, 1980 and was gone by April. Even if it hadn’t aired opposite <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Dukes of Hazzard</i>, it’s hard to imagine any scenario under which it would have lasted longer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And yet, I think some of the criticism of the show is unfair. It’s easy to mock Pink Lady’s pronunciations when they sing, but the problem was asking them to try in the first place. How many American singers could go to Japan and convincingly sing their top 40 in their native language? Late in the run they perform a couple of songs in Japanese, and you realize why they became so popular. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Most of the sketches don’t hold up. But you could say that about every variety series from Sonny &amp; Cher to Tony Orlando &amp; Dawn. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Carol Burnett Show</i> is the only exception, and that’s the gold standard of the genre.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wkjcXuomNbk/XGDioynOAeI/AAAAAAAADGo/B7EvArt-jOk8Yx5P90Jye4SWPhrjK7_vgCLcBGAs/s1600/174daef88407269bb14498926eaa1860f3dda584.96.2.9.2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="500" height="303" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wkjcXuomNbk/XGDioynOAeI/AAAAAAAADGo/B7EvArt-jOk8Yx5P90Jye4SWPhrjK7_vgCLcBGAs/s400/174daef88407269bb14498926eaa1860f3dda584.96.2.9.2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Jeff Altman is no Tim Conway, but it’s hard to be funny when you have to respond to Mie saying, “You’re so handsome” with “You just get turned on by my sexy round eyes.” Every time I return to this series I appreciate a little more the effort he puts into trying to make this material work. I also like the self-effacing introductions he recorded for the DVD release back in 2001: “If you enjoyed episode one, you’ll drool over episode two. It’s really horrible.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U-H_A-VYm6M/XGDifodzERI/AAAAAAAADGg/TiL6lwQJ1hgDtfwqEsQxHsbb-VTTYQ1iwCLcBGAs/s1600/920x920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="920" data-original-width="654" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U-H_A-VYm6M/XGDifodzERI/AAAAAAAADGg/TiL6lwQJ1hgDtfwqEsQxHsbb-VTTYQ1iwCLcBGAs/s400/920x920.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The DVDs go for nearly 200 bucks on Amazon, making <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pink Lady and Jeff</i> a hot commodity at last. Only took 40 years. Put it on your shelf next to documentaries about Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster, because seeing the footage for yourself is the only way to believe something this bizarre actually once existed.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/mW8ZPy96dLM/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mW8ZPy96dLM?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-70776728646018030512019-02-01T13:10:00.003-08:002019-02-02T20:44:57.545-08:00The Unshakeables: “Twenty-Four Hours in Tyrantland”<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Twenty-Four Hours in Tyrantland” ranks among the most memorable television episodes ever created. Why? Two reasons: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">1. It’s a situation comedy with no intention of being funny. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">2. It was never actually broadcast on television.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PC4I0dc-P8k/XFPcf72Xh7I/AAAAAAAADFs/4Ncmh5Mkrq09x2_Btx1m4FBn_A7PNeYngCLcBGAs/s1600/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PC4I0dc-P8k/XFPcf72Xh7I/AAAAAAAADFs/4Ncmh5Mkrq09x2_Btx1m4FBn_A7PNeYngCLcBGAs/s400/hqdefault.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In 1959, the U.S. Department of the Treasury approached the producers of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Father Knows Best</i> about filming a special episode of the series that would promote the sale of United States savings bonds. Their request was granted, with the AFL-CIO union covering production costs, and the actors donating their time and talents. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The finished episode was distributed to schools, churches and civic groups, to encourage viewers to buy bonds as a sound investment, as well as a way to protect the nation from foreign enemies. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Such a scenario could never happen now, another reason this episode is so interesting to me. If any department of the federal government tried to get a pro-patriotism message out to the public through a television show, it would immediately be distrusted and dismissed by half the population. Its cast would be condemned for taking sides, and its network and sponsors would race to see which would be first to issue a carefully scripted apology. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">For decades, “Twenty-Four Hours in Tyrantland” was considered a “lost” episode that few viewers were aware existed and even fewer ever watched. But that changed in 2008 when it was included in Shout! Factory’s DVD release of the series’ first season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-59l0BCZbxlc/XFPclNTkaEI/AAAAAAAADFw/6YevuQNk7pAdXAKMTAwlmEM-ASvtDNj_QCLcBGAs/s1600/FKBS1Cover72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="385" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-59l0BCZbxlc/XFPclNTkaEI/AAAAAAAADFw/6YevuQNk7pAdXAKMTAwlmEM-ASvtDNj_QCLcBGAs/s400/FKBS1Cover72dpi.jpg" width="282" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">When I first watched it, based on the little I had heard, I expected some shallow piece of propaganda, with dire warnings of the Communist threat expressed in fevered tones reminiscent of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reefer Madness</i>. I should have known better. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The episode was written by Roswell Rogers, the series’ most talented and prolific scripter. He wasn’t capable of hackwork, and he got the story’s message across without pushing any of the Anderson family to act differently from their established characters. I found it to be compelling drama, and not just because Russia is back in the headlines every day. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The story opens with Jim (the ever-engaging Robert Young) arriving home with an exciting announcement: he’s been asked to head up Springfield’s savings bond campaign, and he’s eager to recruit his family into the endeavor. </span><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">"We have to convince every family in town, even the kids themselves, what we Andersons already know about bonds," he tells them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YiH8wEQT3Q4/XFPcqp5C8UI/AAAAAAAADF0/t1UaDLnpNA43xpbhsRcSbbfHRs8Jo3zTwCLcBGAs/s1600/DIJwG-1506109172-9870-list_items-fnb_bonds.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YiH8wEQT3Q4/XFPcqp5C8UI/AAAAAAAADF0/t1UaDLnpNA43xpbhsRcSbbfHRs8Jo3zTwCLcBGAs/s400/DIJwG-1506109172-9870-list_items-fnb_bonds.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">But while his wife Margaret is ready to help, the kids are predictably less than enthused. Bud was already TV’s prototypical teenage slacker, Betty’s highest priorities were usually boys and a new formal for every dance, and little Kathy was always self-centered.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t4y-yyzNbCs/XFPcyarVfYI/AAAAAAAADF8/FndG9GnojfMQDh06zE-UwW4uZLD1LBTjQCLcBGAs/s1600/1306176567_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t4y-yyzNbCs/XFPcyarVfYI/AAAAAAAADF8/FndG9GnojfMQDh06zE-UwW4uZLD1LBTjQCLcBGAs/s400/1306176567_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Jim is understandably disappointed in their lackluster response. </span><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">"Do you kids realize what would happen if everyone in America was as little concerned with our way of life as you are? Why, freedom would go zinging right out the door! It could happen much easier than you think. And if it did, if this freedom was suddenly taken away from you…you couldn't take it. I don't think you could handle it for 24 hours.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Bud responds, "How much you wanna bet?" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">And that gives Jim an idea. If the kids endure 24 hours under tyrannical rule, they’ll each win $18.75 (over 100 bucks in 2019 money) to spend any way they want. If they lose, they’ll have to spend that money on a savings bond, and help Dad with his campaign. The kids jump at what appears to be a cinch bet –&nbsp;they have no idea the lengths to which good ol’ Dad is about to go to prove his point. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The children are given numbers instead of names and assigned household chores. Bud has the morning newspaper ripped from his hands (“You only read what we want you to read”). Eager to get back to their carefree regular lives, Bud and Betty plot an escape. But Dad had monitored their phone calls (like the secret police would in a totalitarian regime). As punishment Bud is exiled to the garage and given a dinner of crackers, water and one cube of sugar. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I always wonder when to stop with the plot points, so anyone interested can discover this episode’s pleasures without too much spoiling. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I’m also aware that my descriptions of the trials Jim puts his kids through may lack the gravitas of seeing them imposed. This is not just another sitcom story. There is no humorous undercurrent to the children’s plight, or to the parents’ authoritarian rule. When Bud offers a sheepish “Thanks, Mom” for the crackers she delivers to the garage, it’s unsettling watching Jane Wyatt turn and announce, “I am NOT your mom.” Though she feels a twinge of conscience afterward. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">"This is the most important lesson they've ever had,” Jim says to reassure her. “If our young people don't think enough of our way of life to try to preserve it, I shudder to think what's going to happen to America.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Are you shuddering yet, Jim? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As the clock ticks toward the 24-hour time limit, it seems as if the kids are going to win their bet. But Jim has one more revelation that crushes the resistance once and for all. It is brilliantly played. Betty’s quiet “I give up” has a resignation meant to resonate with any viewer that takes the blessings of America for granted.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Dj3TANjuvzk/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Dj3TANjuvzk?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://comforttv.blogspot.com/2013/06/breaking-1950s-conventions-on-father.html" target="_blank">As in episodes like “The Bus to Nowhere,”</a> this is a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Father Knows Best</i> episode that dares to confront real-world circumstances rarely acknowledged in escapist entertainment from the 1950s.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Maybe “Twenty-Four Hours in Tyrantland” would seem corny to Millennials. But that’s probably how they’d react to any <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Father Knows Best</i>episode. The world has changed so much since then – for the better in some ways, regrettably so in others. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">But so what? This was a show written at a time when no one would have anticipated there would be interest in <i>Father Knows Best</i> 60 years later. It was directed solely at a Cold War audience that had watched the Soviet Union invade Hungary, and heard Nikita </span><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Khrushchev openly and repeatedly threaten the West with nuclear annihilation. What could someone living in a quiet Midwestern town do to prevent such a catastrophe? Buying a bond wasn’t going to reduce Soviet aggression. But perhaps it was a way to feel a little less powerless. </span></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Arial; panose-1:2 11 6 4 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:10887 -2147483648 8 0 511 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-86224704495318567362019-01-23T14:45:00.000-08:002019-01-23T14:45:03.867-08:00The 10 Most Iconic Costumes in Classic TV<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Throughout the entire Comfort TV era, television has introduced characters that will forever be associated with the clothes they wore.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-V5hoJY4y8/XEaBNJxOWpI/AAAAAAAADD0/M6h9Vsg9PQEDeOmPRNqQ1bIsLs30nV5mQCLcBGAs/s1600/00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="799" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-V5hoJY4y8/XEaBNJxOWpI/AAAAAAAADD0/M6h9Vsg9PQEDeOmPRNqQ1bIsLs30nV5mQCLcBGAs/s400/00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">When we think of Laura Petrie we picture her in those snug capri pants, and we always remember Col. Robert Hogan in his bomber jacket. Some characters even inspired fashion crazes among viewers, from Davy Crockett’s coonskin cap to Alexis Colby’s shoulder pads.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eGcZsgXh0uM/XEaBYXn4tvI/AAAAAAAADD4/kO-dNu1-UGQSIUOX7-coT8wpkpBlvpM4QCLcBGAs/s1600/300.parker.fess.lc.031810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eGcZsgXh0uM/XEaBYXn4tvI/AAAAAAAADD4/kO-dNu1-UGQSIUOX7-coT8wpkpBlvpM4QCLcBGAs/s400/300.parker.fess.lc.031810.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">All of these looks are familiar to fans, but which costumes are the most iconic? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">After giving that some thought, here are my selections. I disqualified animated characters, so Fred Jones’s ascot and Fred Flintstone’s orange animal skins will not be included.</span><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> </span><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The list is in chronological order, as it would be too difficult to select a favorite from such a striking field. </span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Lone Ranger (1949)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">One of TV’s most successful early westerns had visual cues to follow when it came to the masked rider of the plains – the character had already been depicted in comic books, big little books and a newspaper comic strip dating back to the 1930s.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4tUOim7rrF0/XEaBqap0BfI/AAAAAAAADEE/VwjhJR8IjQg5jaPXS688qjfhu_mM89T_wCLcBGAs/s1600/901443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="832" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4tUOim7rrF0/XEaBqap0BfI/AAAAAAAADEE/VwjhJR8IjQg5jaPXS688qjfhu_mM89T_wCLcBGAs/s400/901443.jpg" width="287" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">However, artists could never reach a consensus on the color scheme, which is why you’ll find versions in red, blue, yellow and brown. But once Clayton Moore saddled up, blue got the nod.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zgg9J51pJ7Q/XEaBuoMrk0I/AAAAAAAADEI/bl_wr1s3ozo8ip0Yniz--TGiCFT6UR8AACLcBGAs/s1600/9279285734_4d4b7324af_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="640" height="321" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zgg9J51pJ7Q/XEaBuoMrk0I/AAAAAAAADEI/bl_wr1s3ozo8ip0Yniz--TGiCFT6UR8AACLcBGAs/s400/9279285734_4d4b7324af_z.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Mouseketeers (1955)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“I owe everything to those ears” – Annette Funicello</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The costume designer on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Mickey Mouse Club</i> was a man named Chuck Keehne, but the creation of those famous Mickey Mouse ears is credited to series regular Roy Williams.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wfx_sRWD2Rw/XEaB3GuhiPI/AAAAAAAADEM/EnuwQx9RKG86VZshnzf8rX4MowSrrDqCgCLcBGAs/s1600/vlcsnap-2013-07-30-20h21m32s71.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wfx_sRWD2Rw/XEaB3GuhiPI/AAAAAAAADEM/EnuwQx9RKG86VZshnzf8rX4MowSrrDqCgCLcBGAs/s400/vlcsnap-2013-07-30-20h21m32s71.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">According to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Official Mickey Mouse Club Book</i>, they were made from soft felt and wired so the ears wouldn’t flop. “Every time we lost a pair we were docked fifty dollars from our paycheck,” Annette recalled. “I personally paid for three pairs, but I guess it was a great way to teach us kids to be responsible.” If Roy had a cut of every pair sold at Disneyland over the last 60 years, his family would be as wealthy as Bill Gates.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GGYZ_8RafQ0/XEaB7HSYyeI/AAAAAAAADEU/Bta_Sg2xhqkXHSpKPbjL_mQ-VChodPUuwCLcBGAs/s1600/09funicello1_cnd-blog427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="427" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GGYZ_8RafQ0/XEaB7HSYyeI/AAAAAAAADEU/Bta_Sg2xhqkXHSpKPbjL_mQ-VChodPUuwCLcBGAs/s400/09funicello1_cnd-blog427.jpg" width="392" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Gilligan and the Skipper (1964)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Obviously some people pack better for three-hour tours than others. While Ginger and the Howells spent their years in exile selecting from an inexhaustible supply of outfits, Gilligan and the Skipper stayed in the same bold primary colors they wore when the Minnow set ground on an uncharted desert isle.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x2-cB4pTmyU/XEaB_zJVdnI/AAAAAAAADEc/jM_XP8XSjV47qAPvF77YW_yWza7KoMmIwCLcBGAs/s1600/gilligansisland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="500" height="280" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x2-cB4pTmyU/XEaB_zJVdnI/AAAAAAAADEc/jM_XP8XSjV47qAPvF77YW_yWza7KoMmIwCLcBGAs/s400/gilligansisland.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Jeannie (1965)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Gwen Wakeling won the Best Costume Design Oscar in 1950 for her work on the film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Samson &amp; Delilah</i>. But to Comfort TV fans, she should be revered for creating the pink and maroon harem outfit worn by Barbara Eden on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Dream of Jeannie</i>. While it’s not radically different from the kind of harem garb glimpsed in countless movies –&nbsp;velvet bolero top, chiffon pantaloons, satin shoes –&nbsp;the bold colors and Eden’s obvious charms made this costume among the most recognizable ever designed for TV. No expense was spared either – the shoes were imported from Italy and the braided cording trim was imported from France. If you look closely you’ll see that Eden is also wearing a teardrop diamond on a herringbone chain, a gift from her husband Michael Ansara.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M5dBczQMuOw/XEaCExP4NXI/AAAAAAAADEg/F2ZlJlfPAxEjPyIjIzaSrsE374jdt9ZoACLcBGAs/s1600/barbara-eden-jeannie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M5dBczQMuOw/XEaCExP4NXI/AAAAAAAADEg/F2ZlJlfPAxEjPyIjIzaSrsE374jdt9ZoACLcBGAs/s400/barbara-eden-jeannie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Starfleet (1966)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Many costume designers accepted the challenge of speculating on what humans would be wearing in a distant future century. I’m guessing they’re all going to be wrong, though none of us will be around to verify it. An accurate prediction was not the objective here anyway – it was designing uniforms that would pop on the color televisions people were buying in 1966. The color-coded ranking tunics introduced in the original series, with basic black slacks and boots, remain the gold standard for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Star Trek</i> uniforms.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2VgGsLkCSQo/XEaCJnmQLbI/AAAAAAAADEk/g6yqncJlm8kbYBP5xa2xGsESbnyGqykSACLcBGAs/s1600/star-trek-cast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2VgGsLkCSQo/XEaCJnmQLbI/AAAAAAAADEk/g6yqncJlm8kbYBP5xa2xGsESbnyGqykSACLcBGAs/s400/star-trek-cast.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Mr. Rogers (1968)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">There has been a renaissance of appreciation toward Fred Rogers over the past few years. Maybe that’s due to the critically acclaimed documentary released in 2018, or just a general sense that the kindness, patience and empathy he expressed through his PBS series have disappeared from the public discourse. Either way, the generations who grew up with his life lessons always remember him the same way – saying hello to his neighbors as he changes from a sport coat into a brightly-colored cardigan, and slipping out of dress shoes to put on comfortable tennis shoes. It makes me feel better just to think about it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uYMO13VOgeE/XEaCOPnn8VI/AAAAAAAADEs/_Dfp7LSPnykpZ_0g31XRLGBFO0OboyPzgCLcBGAs/s1600/mr-rogers.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="584" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uYMO13VOgeE/XEaCOPnn8VI/AAAAAAAADEs/_Dfp7LSPnykpZ_0g31XRLGBFO0OboyPzgCLcBGAs/s400/mr-rogers.gif" width="373" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Columbo (1968)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Proving that clothing doesn’t have to be stylish to be memorable, we present Lt. Columbo. In his rumpled garb and dirty trenchcoat, he looks like the downtrodden guy you hand your restaurant leftovers to before ascending the highway on-ramp. The coat appears heavier than it is because Peter Falk is always slouching, as if his body is folding in under its weight.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D2gJNcDR_Zw/XEaCS-C-QsI/AAAAAAAADEw/Iqb79mZJkqUTY_913_OikBeIeWln5nozgCLcBGAs/s1600/Columbo-All-in-the-Game-A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1151" height="283" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D2gJNcDR_Zw/XEaCS-C-QsI/AAAAAAAADEw/Iqb79mZJkqUTY_913_OikBeIeWln5nozgCLcBGAs/s400/Columbo-All-in-the-Game-A.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Partridge Family (1974)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">They didn’t always wear the maroon crushed velvet pant suits and ruffles for their (allegedly) live performances, but it’s the look that will always be associated with TV’s best fake band. Only Paul Revere &amp; The Raiders looked more ridiculous on stage. But at least the music holds up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/MpqLsfpA_Qw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MpqLsfpA_Qw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Fonzie (1974)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Fans recall that Arthur Fonzarelli spent much of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Happy Days</i>’ first season wearing a white windbreaker.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iKam951LIjk/XEaCpGn84II/AAAAAAAADFA/fL4XVdXYWsUKrfN46pouol0WyoNC5QV4wCLcBGAs/s1600/146547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="520" height="245" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iKam951LIjk/XEaCpGn84II/AAAAAAAADFA/fL4XVdXYWsUKrfN46pouol0WyoNC5QV4wCLcBGAs/s400/146547.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But when his t-shirt and jeans were paired with a black leather jacket, he became The Fonz – and arguably the most famous television character of the 1970s. And while many recall that “jumping the shark” was a phrase connected to this series to denote the moment when good shows started going bad, real fans know that the turning point for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Happy Days</i> was when Fonzie switched to a black t-shirt.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6ZsPsECCi9U/XEaCtsut9qI/AAAAAAAADFE/Fgj5MPfEMjwSOuhKRfGCGiT4khuRuvFagCLcBGAs/s1600/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="474" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6ZsPsECCi9U/XEaCtsut9qI/AAAAAAAADFE/Fgj5MPfEMjwSOuhKRfGCGiT4khuRuvFagCLcBGAs/s400/th.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Wonder Woman (1975)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Her patriotic outfit had been around for decades in the comics, and it is to our everlasting gratitude that television, for once, decided it didn’t know better, while creating a radical re-design that was more practical for fighting crime. As great as Gal Gadot was in the recent film, Lynda Carter still personifies Wonder Woman for the Comfort TV generation.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W5_--fnQbkY/XEaCyAQ8FMI/AAAAAAAADFI/j7kGu6aydBA1w8Qiit844cmT03ooZPltQCLcBGAs/s1600/Wonder-Woman-lynda-carter-34433741-2210-3254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1087" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W5_--fnQbkY/XEaCyAQ8FMI/AAAAAAAADFI/j7kGu6aydBA1w8Qiit844cmT03ooZPltQCLcBGAs/s400/Wonder-Woman-lynda-carter-34433741-2210-3254.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Daisy Duke (1979)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The original plan was for Catherine Bach to wear vinyl boots and a miniskirt that matched the tablecloths at the Boar’s Nest. Instead, Bach designed her own costume, based on the outfits she saw waitresses wearing in the roadhouses of Georgia. She sewed the first pair of denim shorts she wore on the show, which came to be known forevermore as ‘daisydukes.’ When the outfit is named after you, that’s as iconic as it gets.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pbc_yAX7pJs/XEaC2zdM9wI/AAAAAAAADFM/-M7KqTrhPkw43qI4YyyMQx07qBtFwkFNwCLcBGAs/s1600/catherine-bach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1582" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pbc_yAX7pJs/XEaC2zdM9wI/AAAAAAAADFM/-M7KqTrhPkw43qI4YyyMQx07qBtFwkFNwCLcBGAs/s400/catherine-bach.jpg" width="302" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-37844730808975094002019-01-14T15:05:00.000-08:002019-01-14T15:05:14.703-08:00Are These the 25 Best Classic TV Shows of All Time?<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Just before Christmas I received an email from the <a href="https://classic-tv-blog-assoc.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><u>Classic TV Blog Association</u></a>, requesting input from members about the greatest classic television shows ever made (“classic” in this case meaning pre-1990). Each of us submitted our lists, and then ranked our favorites from all the shows selected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z8ymQvCcjtU/XDvAoS34z6I/AAAAAAAADCI/MVa6Ku6P4uYN43TLL0et_NRYUXOQh8wUACLcBGAs/s1600/25%2BGreatest%2BClassic%2BTV%2BSeries%2B-%2Bbanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z8ymQvCcjtU/XDvAoS34z6I/AAAAAAAADCI/MVa6Ku6P4uYN43TLL0et_NRYUXOQh8wUACLcBGAs/s400/25%2BGreatest%2BClassic%2BTV%2BSeries%2B-%2Bbanner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Here are the results, based on enduring popularity, social impact, and influence on other TV shows. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">1.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Twilight Zone</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">2.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I Love Lucy<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">3.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Mary Tyler Moore Show</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">4.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Columbo</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">5.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>All in the Family</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">6.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Dragnet</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">7.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Monty Python’s Flying Circus</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">8.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Star Trek </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">9.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Prisoner</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">10.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span> M*A*S*H</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">11.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>The Dick Van Dyke Show</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">12.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>The Fugitive</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">13.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>Dallas</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">14.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>Doctor Who</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">15.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>The Andy Griffith Show</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">16.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>The Defenders</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">17.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>The Golden Girls</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">18.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>Perry Mason</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">19.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>SCTV</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">20.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>The Honeymooners</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">21.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>Alfred Hitchcock Presents</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">22.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>Hill Street Blues</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">23.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>The Odd Couple</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">24.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>The Outer Limits</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; tab-stops: .25in 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">25.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp; </span>The Avengers</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This was not my final list, but what emerged after all the votes were tabulated and ranked. If you disagree with which shows made it and where they placed, you’re not alone – but then that’s the fun of projects like this. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Let’s take a closer look at the results:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">1.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Twilight Zone</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I believe it is harder to maintain the quality of a series with the same premise and the same characters. An anthology series like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Twilight Zone</i> can create new worlds every week, so each episode seems fresher and offers more surprises. And for that reason, while I certainly expect to find this show in the top 25, I would not have put it at #1. I had it at #7.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ORbseYAkzRM/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ORbseYAkzRM?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">2.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I Love Lucy<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This was my top show, but six of our members left it completely off their lists. I find that astonishing. No other situation comedy had more impact on its genre, from the three-camera filming process it pioneered to the invention of the rerun and syndication package. Plus, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Love Lucy</i> may be 60+ years old but it’s no museum piece – most episodes are still laugh-out-loud funny.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dhRhat-UU6M/XDvBV6NOd0I/AAAAAAAADCM/hiwXXKjNv14a0rbRtIROZLe1jQiLXQ_EwCLcBGAs/s1600/i-love-lucy-mertzes-quiz-orig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dhRhat-UU6M/XDvBV6NOd0I/AAAAAAAADCM/hiwXXKjNv14a0rbRtIROZLe1jQiLXQ_EwCLcBGAs/s400/i-love-lucy-mertzes-quiz-orig.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">3.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Mary Tyler Moore Show</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">No argument here. I ranked it #4.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OBRNGazE2pM/XDvBx-w_TBI/AAAAAAAADCQ/m3M4sNhWdRgHcgEmw0mgaZBCLt2sdCJNgCLcBGAs/s1600/work-mary-tyler-moore-show.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="1284" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OBRNGazE2pM/XDvBx-w_TBI/AAAAAAAADCQ/m3M4sNhWdRgHcgEmw0mgaZBCLt2sdCJNgCLcBGAs/s400/work-mary-tyler-moore-show.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">4.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Columbo</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I was delighted to see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Columbo</i> ranked this high. Detective shows are a dime a dozen, but this is the only one to add a novel twist to the genre. Instead of viewers trying to solve the mystery with the investigator, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Columbo</i> showed us the crime and the criminal, and the fun was in watching how the detective figured out what happened. Theoretically it’s a concept that shouldn’t work, especially with a lead character that spent 90 minutes annoying the hell out of his suspects. I had it #8 on my list.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k7GMIgOU2Hw/XDvCMKrLfLI/AAAAAAAADCU/xL7-yZkXtiUpU8VNqz-UfzlLEqa9mlh9ACLcBGAs/s1600/columbo24c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k7GMIgOU2Hw/XDvCMKrLfLI/AAAAAAAADCU/xL7-yZkXtiUpU8VNqz-UfzlLEqa9mlh9ACLcBGAs/s400/columbo24c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">5.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>All in the Family</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Popular, influential, award-winning many times over, though not a series I enjoy revisiting. For me, an all-time great show should have a timeless quality to it. Norman Lear’s shows were very much products of the era in which they were created. I get the support it received from so many of my fellow TV historians, but this one isn’t for me.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TPzBksVbHlI/XDvCqcFbTTI/AAAAAAAADCY/oWQnMyOn6EQNTqHCxFwdzkQpaiWjrfqLACLcBGAs/s1600/s-l1000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="654" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TPzBksVbHlI/XDvCqcFbTTI/AAAAAAAADCY/oWQnMyOn6EQNTqHCxFwdzkQpaiWjrfqLACLcBGAs/s400/s-l1000.jpg" width="261" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">6.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Dragnet</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’d be curious to know how many votes were based on the police procedural’s original 1950s run, and how many were inspired by the late 1960s revival, which played for years on Nick at Nite and remains the only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragnet</i>available in DVD season sets. Either way, it’s another deserving choice.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/FZo2hhvvlpw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FZo2hhvvlpw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">7.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Monty Python’s Flying Circus</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">My understanding was that this would be a ranking of prime time shows, so I was surprised to see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Python</i> here. Brilliant show – as quotable among my junior high school peers as any series ever broadcast –&nbsp;but it wasn’t on my list.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Z8eE6SpVA5I/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Z8eE6SpVA5I?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">8.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Star Trek </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Absolutely – even though I find myself reaching for my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Next Generation</i> DVDs more often these days. It was #5 on my list.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ki3TGgcrz4g/XDvEi9dxaUI/AAAAAAAADCg/Ht0z1cYSpjwcqXs-N7SYZd3I-3MCF2ANQCLcBGAs/s1600/5-star-trek-tv-shows-and-movies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ki3TGgcrz4g/XDvEi9dxaUI/AAAAAAAADCg/Ht0z1cYSpjwcqXs-N7SYZd3I-3MCF2ANQCLcBGAs/s400/5-star-trek-tv-shows-and-movies.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">9.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Prisoner</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I don’t know about this one. There were just 17 episodes – is that a series or a miniseries? Plus like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Python</i> it’s an import that wasn’t aired in prime time, so well off my radar when I made my selections. Those who revere <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Prisoner</i> get frustrated with people like me who would have preferred a less ambiguous ending. I know – it’s deep! It’s symbolic! It’s allegorical! It’s also more than a little self-indulgent.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lZRGxmRnc7Q/XDvE-S_Zl5I/AAAAAAAADCk/3sD-Rt4GDJgSnClok8Dg17GCqfJd1LyygCLcBGAs/s1600/McGoohan%252Bbigger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1435" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lZRGxmRnc7Q/XDvE-S_Zl5I/AAAAAAAADCk/3sD-Rt4GDJgSnClok8Dg17GCqfJd1LyygCLcBGAs/s400/McGoohan%252Bbigger.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">10.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>M*A*S*H</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This one just missed my top 10. I prefer the later seasons, with Hawkeye, B.J. and Winchester in the swamp, Col. Potter in charge and Margaret as a sympathetic character and not a caricature. However, this is also when the stories became more pompous and preachy. Still, I can’t think of another series that balanced comedy and tragedy with the same finesse.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0LXJrrb7pfo/XDvGhQn7yVI/AAAAAAAADCs/2HKdTBSGZdEB_v7fWV3p_6qHPr7HsrRBACLcBGAs/s1600/titlecard12-mash-thenandnow-jpg_003041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="630" height="362" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0LXJrrb7pfo/XDvGhQn7yVI/AAAAAAAADCs/2HKdTBSGZdEB_v7fWV3p_6qHPr7HsrRBACLcBGAs/s400/titlecard12-mash-thenandnow-jpg_003041.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">11.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Dick Van Dyke Show</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Another lock. After <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Love Lucy</i> it’s perhaps the best sitcom of all time. It was #2 on my list.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/5X827jjB2lw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5X827jjB2lw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">12.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Fugitive</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Columbo</i>, here was a show with a premise that probably shouldn’t have worked. It asked audiences to root against the police in an era when that wasn’t as popular as it is now. It had to tell stories where Dr. Kimble would be almost apprehended or exonerated, while the audience knew full well that the show would be over if that happened. But with brilliant writing, top-tier guest stars and an unforgettable performance by David Janssen, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Fugitive</i> surpassed any perceived limitations to become one of TV’s crown jewels. It was #6 on my list.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w5xP1qvcYW0/XDvK85rt_NI/AAAAAAAADC0/1rPlxoTpe2waWw9tuwMUtwD1WWnrDR5fQCLcBGAs/s1600/fugitive_tv_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="800" height="292" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w5xP1qvcYW0/XDvK85rt_NI/AAAAAAAADC0/1rPlxoTpe2waWw9tuwMUtwD1WWnrDR5fQCLcBGAs/s400/fugitive_tv_02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">13.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Dallas</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dallas</i> a truly classic show, or a flavor of the month that rode a memorable cliffhanger into the record books? I’ll have to think about that for a while.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Jn8YuDqFo6o/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Jn8YuDqFo6o?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">14.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Doctor Who</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’ve been watching since Tom Baker piloted the TARDIS, so I understand the support it received. Had I considered non prime-time series, it might have made my top 10 as well. And I still miss Elisabeth Sladen.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M3ydpwlG2YM/XDvLk2g8cmI/AAAAAAAADC4/avs6H-CvvAI-6v2DY5nY_UIOAdGh1fBfQCLcBGAs/s1600/ElisabethSladenJonPertwee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="976" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M3ydpwlG2YM/XDvLk2g8cmI/AAAAAAAADC4/avs6H-CvvAI-6v2DY5nY_UIOAdGh1fBfQCLcBGAs/s400/ElisabethSladenJonPertwee.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">15.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Andy Griffith Show</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s easy to explain the love for this one. If you offered classic television fans a chance to jump through the TV screen into the world of any show, I think many of us would select Mayberry.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wYiMncZGtRc/XDvL84bh3tI/AAAAAAAADDA/wqOrsS3Cd8gQU7hHkO6uaLbTYUTDMHdcQCLcBGAs/s1600/7483625e798a05b8_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wYiMncZGtRc/XDvL84bh3tI/AAAAAAAADDA/wqOrsS3Cd8gQU7hHkO6uaLbTYUTDMHdcQCLcBGAs/s400/7483625e798a05b8_0.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">16.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Defenders</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It seemed inappropriate to select this show when I’ve only watched one of its four seasons. But I was glad to see it here. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">17.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Golden Girls</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I don’t dislike it but I’ve never been a fan either. I’ll give it another shot when my social security checks start arriving – by then I won’t have any patience for shows about young whippersnappers. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">18.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Perry Mason</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Not sure if we need two legal dramas among the top 25, though a case could be made for both <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Perry Mason</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Defenders</i>. I’d keep one and give the other slot to a western like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gunsmoke</i>, given how that genre ruled television in the 1950s. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">19.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>SCTV</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Over <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Saturday Night Live</i>? That was a surprise.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tKHWofcVqrs/XDvMOpX0f2I/AAAAAAAADDI/OYtNH6iye4Qy7bOK_tp4a3aX6jFz7MpWACLcBGAs/s1600/bobanddoug1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="450" height="308" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tKHWofcVqrs/XDvMOpX0f2I/AAAAAAAADDI/OYtNH6iye4Qy7bOK_tp4a3aX6jFz7MpWACLcBGAs/s400/bobanddoug1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">20.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Honeymooners</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The classic 39 are still comedy gold. No objections, your honor. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">21.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Alfred Hitchcock Presents</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Not on my list. The quality here was not as consistent as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Twilight Zone</i>. When it was good, with episodes like “Lamb to the Slaughter” and “An Unlocked Window,” it was brilliant. But it didn’t get there often enough in 268 episodes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">22.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Hill Street Blues</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I had this one at #10. It felt like a sea change in television, with the way the series was shot and the more mature content. It felt closer to reality than most cop shows up to that time.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fSiS0c-16wo/XDvMip_fk9I/AAAAAAAADDM/mZjQfPB5DsAbyB0onOvq75KMigArHJpqgCLcBGAs/s1600/hillstreetblues.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fSiS0c-16wo/XDvMip_fk9I/AAAAAAAADDM/mZjQfPB5DsAbyB0onOvq75KMigArHJpqgCLcBGAs/s400/hillstreetblues.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">23.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Odd Couple</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Odd Couple</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> was one of many sitcoms that deserves “classic” status, but that is not quite up to the “best of all time” criteria. If I had another sitcom I could add to the list, I’d go with either <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bewitched</i>or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Adventures of Ozzie &amp; Harriet</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">24.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Outer Limits</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This was television’s first important science fiction series, and thus another worthy selection.</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/FCcdr4O-3gE/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FCcdr4O-3gE?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">25.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The Avengers</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The more I watch <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Avengers</i>, the more I wonder whether it’s really the show people love, or spending time with two of the most wonderful, witty, charming, and eminently watchable characters ever created. My affection for John Steed and Emma Peel far surpasses my recollection of the cases they tackled.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7lNNvkW3nA/XDvNEQHgN9I/AAAAAAAADDY/xX22CqzqT9IsfQ4iRT9vrc_EPnXBJoOIACLcBGAs/s1600/992febd59d1487417298a69110f270af.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7lNNvkW3nA/XDvNEQHgN9I/AAAAAAAADDY/xX22CqzqT9IsfQ4iRT9vrc_EPnXBJoOIACLcBGAs/s400/992febd59d1487417298a69110f270af.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Only one show from my top 10 list did not make the top 25 (and no, it was not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Brady Bunch</i>). I nominated <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Ed Sullivan Show</i>, for its longevity (24 seasons!), and for the role it played in introducing Elvis, The Beatles, The Supremes and countless other iconic entertainers to a national audience. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Well, how did our little group do? Compliments and complaints are always welcome. </span></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-61350580963384382972019-01-04T13:33:00.000-08:002019-01-04T13:33:16.912-08:00Top TV Moments: Suzanne Pleshette<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">To classic TV fans, the dark-eyed, husky-voiced Suzanne Pleshette will always be associated with the series that made her a household name. But remove <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bob Newhart Show</i> from her IMDB entry and you are left with dozens of rich and varied performances also worth discovering.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sWnKYXOSgB0/XC708myUNLI/AAAAAAAADBQ/iUwJKfxwtxgL8GDMPi0AyiHMfWptKyeHgCLcBGAs/s1600/SP1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="717" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sWnKYXOSgB0/XC708myUNLI/AAAAAAAADBQ/iUwJKfxwtxgL8GDMPi0AyiHMfWptKyeHgCLcBGAs/s400/SP1.jpg" width="311" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">She has a handful of high-profile credits outside of television, most notably as Anne Brancroft’s replacement in the Broadway production of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Miracle Worker</i>, and in the Alfred Hitchcock classic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Birds</i>. But TV is what kept her busy, beginning in 1957 with her first professional credit, in an episode of the Barry Sullivan series <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harbormaster</i>. I couldn’t find a copy, so we’ll have to start our salute four years later. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Dr. Kildare (1961)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Young, vibrant Julie dabbles in art and theater, still trying to figure out which path she wants to pursue when she is diagnosed with leukemia. “A Shining Image” is the first of Suzanne Pleshette’s three appearances on this landmark medical series, all of which are worth seeking out. I chose this one for the wonderful scene with Pleshette and a priest played by John Fiedler, later one of Dr. Hartley’s group patients on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bob Newhart Show</i>.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Route 66 (1960)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I haven’t written much about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Route 66</i> in this blog, but that’s not for lack of interest or appreciation. I’ll try to remedy that in the coming year. For now, I can say that “The Strengthening Angels” is a typically memorable first-season episode with impeccable credentials – script by Stirling Silliphant, direction by Arthur Hiller, and a guest performance by Suzanne Pleshette that may be my favorite of her non-Newhart moments. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Lottie Montana is a bit of a mystery for much of the story – she flees a tent revival meeting in pouring rain, hops into Tod and Buz’s Corvette and pleads to be taken away, leaving her young daughter behind. When the sheriff catches up to them, he charges Lottie with murder. Is there more to the story? You bet. When you first see Pleshette, you may be taken aback at how much she resembles Elizabeth Taylor.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WdtoHlJSIDg/XC73SqEZrwI/AAAAAAAADB4/QA4iclHnFUAB2L6OdbZhfApqXmUMsr6VgCLcBGAs/s1600/60314675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="512" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WdtoHlJSIDg/XC73SqEZrwI/AAAAAAAADB4/QA4iclHnFUAB2L6OdbZhfApqXmUMsr6VgCLcBGAs/s400/60314675.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Fugitive (1964)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Eleanor Burnett, an old friend of Dr. Kimble’s who believes in his innocence, may have found the one-armed man. Will “World’s End” mark the end of Kimble’s flight? This was a season two highlight because of the palpable chemistry between David Janssen and Suzanne Pleshette. According to Ed Robertson’s book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Fugitive Recaptured</i>, before Janssen’s untimely passing there was talk of the couple costarring in a series. We can only wonder what might have been.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PIX7T6oEOpY/XC71FBchFPI/AAAAAAAADBU/uPK-U61GwMIvs78khpu0OazX77vJviWLACLcBGAs/s1600/fugep32sc03b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PIX7T6oEOpY/XC71FBchFPI/AAAAAAAADBU/uPK-U61GwMIvs78khpu0OazX77vJviWLACLcBGAs/s400/fugep32sc03b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Wild Wild West (1965)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Suzanne Pleshette appears in the pilot episode “Night of the Inferno,” as a former paramour of James West who may or may not be helping a Mexican revolutionary start a war with the United States. It’s a solid first outing for a successful series, with Pleshette well cast as a formidable frenemy. She sets the bar high for all of West’s future conquests over the next four seasons.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6uuYIPxyJCM/XC71SKtiDoI/AAAAAAAADBc/fYQo752kiVIECq60QuwUcvfZTuQ0U3U7wCLcBGAs/s1600/tumblr_inline_mteapwjdjG1qe90ht.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6uuYIPxyJCM/XC71SKtiDoI/AAAAAAAADBc/fYQo752kiVIECq60QuwUcvfZTuQ0U3U7wCLcBGAs/s400/tumblr_inline_mteapwjdjG1qe90ht.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Courtship of Eddie’s Father (1970)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Of all the one-episode romances for Tom Corbett in this series’ three seasons, Valerie Bessinger may be the one that cut the deepest when it ended. “Hello, Miss Bessinger, Goodbye” features Suzanne Pleshette as a bohemian of means who charms young Eddie and enchants Eddie’s dad. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Along Came a Spider (1970)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This is pretty florid melodrama, and viewers may disagree about whether there’s one too many story twists at the end. But while it’s on you’ll definitely be along for the ride. Pleshette plays a college student who has a meet-cute with a dashing professor, and then frames him for murder. There’s a lot more to it but the less you know the better. As with many made-for-TV movies from this era, half the fun is spotting all the familiar faces in the cast, including Richard Anderson, Virginia Gregg and <a href="http://comforttv.blogspot.com/2016/07/top-tv-moments-brooke-bundy.html" target="_blank"><u>Comfort TV favorite Brooke Bundy</u></a>.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Bob Newhart Show (1972)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s hard to believe anyone went out on Saturday nights in the 1970s, when television offered moments with Mary Richards, Hawkeye Pierce, Archie Bunker, Carol Burnett, and Bob and Emily Hartley. This classic sitcom provided a perfect showcase for Newhart’s subdued comic gifts, and the sassy, sexy Pleshette made the scenes in the Hartley apartment as memorable as Bob’s group psychology sessions. Having recently watched a slew of situation comedy episodes from the early 1970s, I can tell you that this series is aging more gracefully than just about any of its contemporaries.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BYEwrpQmZ1s/XC72s5U31yI/AAAAAAAADBs/cDKEZ_OSTdgoIKtfFn_INjbOVUSw4fNPgCLcBGAs/s1600/BobNe24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="750" height="282" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BYEwrpQmZ1s/XC72s5U31yI/AAAAAAAADBs/cDKEZ_OSTdgoIKtfFn_INjbOVUSw4fNPgCLcBGAs/s400/BobNe24.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Suzanne Pleshette is Maggie Briggs (1984)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I don’t know if that billing was her idea or the network’s, but it didn’t generate enough interest to keep the show around very long. Pleshette received co-creator credit for this sitcom, in which she played a tough veteran news reporter forced to write fluff pieces for a newspaper’s lifestyle section. It failed for the usual reasons – uninspired writing, a nondescript supporting cast –&nbsp;but for anyone like me who always thought Suzanne Pleshette would have made a perfect Lois Lane, it’s a hint of what might have been. And I’d still rather watch it than the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Murphy Brown</i> revival.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QddixROvxlE/XC73Dh7Z1jI/AAAAAAAADB0/I2LnDfjjxpMCYChgdyU5VwY9al8clmT1gCLcBGAs/s1600/Suzanne-Pleshette-Is-Maggie-Briggs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="671" data-original-width="496" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QddixROvxlE/XC73Dh7Z1jI/AAAAAAAADB0/I2LnDfjjxpMCYChgdyU5VwY9al8clmT1gCLcBGAs/s400/Suzanne-Pleshette-Is-Maggie-Briggs.jpg" width="295" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Leona Helmsley: The Queen of Mean (1990)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">There was a time when hotel magnate Leona Helmsley was as infamous in the tabloids as any Kardashian. This made for TV biopic follows her rise from ambitious real estate broker to the most hated woman in Manhattan. The casting of Pleshette was more flattering than Helmsley deserved, even with the caked-on clown makeup she wears throughout the film. It was not a role that called for subtlety, but Pleshette is up to the task. The “wet lettuce” scene ranks with the wire hangers scene in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mommie Dearest</i> for over-the-top histrionics.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l-fl7MoE2q8/XC71KGoAhjI/AAAAAAAADBY/0DyvfU_uXHw5lNs9aHBbuo_Vd4TQBrs5gCLcBGAs/s1600/Leona-Helmsley-The-Queen-Of-Mean-movie-Suzanne-Pleshette-Lloyd-Bridges-Harry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="540" height="286" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l-fl7MoE2q8/XC71KGoAhjI/AAAAAAAADBY/0DyvfU_uXHw5lNs9aHBbuo_Vd4TQBrs5gCLcBGAs/s400/Leona-Helmsley-The-Queen-Of-Mean-movie-Suzanne-Pleshette-Lloyd-Bridges-Harry.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Newhart (1990)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I presume we no longer need spoiler alerts for Pleshette’s brief but unforgettable appearance in this series’ final episode. There is still some debate over whose idea it was for Dick Loudon to wake up as Bob Hartley, and whether that finale does a disservice to a series that ran for eight seasons; I always wonder what Mary Frann was thinking when the studio audience erupted at the first glimpse of Suzanne Pleshette. But for many classic TV fans it remains the best final scene in sitcom history. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ZgdUWXf8jJk/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZgdUWXf8jJk?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style><br /></span></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-69080598385885189032018-12-26T12:45:00.001-08:002018-12-26T12:45:09.893-08:00Sights and Sounds Now Only Found in Comfort TV<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Back in January I reflected on how every year that passes takes us further away from the television era celebrated in this blog. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s an unsettling thing for those of us who watched these shows in their original runs, because we lived in that world with those characters. The schools, the offices, and the grocery stories all looked just like the ones we once knew. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But we have reached a point where current and future generations will view these episodes the way my generation watched movies from the 1930s and ‘40s, with an inescapable awareness that this was a story set in another time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Comfort TV contains sights and sounds that are rarely glimpsed now, or that have disappeared altogether. It’s not that we miss them necessarily, or would prefer to have them back instead of what has replaced them. But seeing them again can make us happy, because they belong to a time when perhaps we felt we were happier than we often are now. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If you remember these, I hope you recall them as fondly as I do. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Gas Stations That Were Service Stations</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">From the ‘ding’ of the hose as you pull up to the pumps, to the attendant who fills your tank, cleans your windshield and offers to check the tires, to the quarts of oil stacked in pyramid shape in the window, the classic TV gas station is a veritable fount of nostalgia. Let’s not even talk about the under $1 a gallon price for gas back then. They also provided employment for many Comfort TV characters, including Bud Anderson.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3FxVtW2lQd4/XCKz213cBQI/AAAAAAAADAE/I6ExrIeVVj0H7Jj2IPijlfc3lHTOR5cXgCLcBGAs/s1600/james-franciscus-father-knows-best-047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3FxVtW2lQd4/XCKz213cBQI/AAAAAAAADAE/I6ExrIeVVj0H7Jj2IPijlfc3lHTOR5cXgCLcBGAs/s400/james-franciscus-father-knows-best-047.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Pay Phones and Telephone Booths</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Both are still around, but before cell phones they played a more prominent role in our lives, and in the plots of countless classic TV shows. Other moments in these shows that belong to the past: characters looking up phone numbers in the telephone book, and executives telling their receptionists to “hold my calls.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xxUX8uxPmN0/XCKz8t-52JI/AAAAAAAADAI/elgGEI3Hp38onUVgcGMOKCKv9cfFEoH_QCLcBGAs/s1600/file.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="801" data-original-width="1054" height="302" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xxUX8uxPmN0/XCKz8t-52JI/AAAAAAAADAI/elgGEI3Hp38onUVgcGMOKCKv9cfFEoH_QCLcBGAs/s400/file.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">A Matchbook As a Clue To a Crime</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">People smoked a lot more in the classic TV era, which is why you’d find a ready supply of matchbooks at every bar, restaurant, hotel and nightclub. And they’d get dropped an awful lot by suspicious characters, providing cops and detectives like Amos Burke and Peter Gunn with a convenient place to begin an investigation.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DmxPSkO4WSs/XCK0CoE1DPI/AAAAAAAADAM/O-YJ-0gHw9wlf8IV7TDn6PDc7VQzrJfUACLcBGAs/s1600/f44deb627b2a48d9a7d8dd5f8ead9e80.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="564" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DmxPSkO4WSs/XCK0CoE1DPI/AAAAAAAADAM/O-YJ-0gHw9wlf8IV7TDn6PDc7VQzrJfUACLcBGAs/s400/f44deb627b2a48d9a7d8dd5f8ead9e80.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Then-Current Pop Culture Expressions</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Only her hairdresser knows for sure” was the punch line to many a joke in vintage situation comedies –&nbsp;one that would be confusing to modern viewers. But back then everybody got the reference.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/7nOKoCP6zXg/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7nOKoCP6zXg?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Soft Drinks in Bottles</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I still see these occasionally, but plastic bottles have replaced their glass counterparts. Which is somewhat ironic in this green-conscious time, as glass is more recyclable than plastic. Some people still swear that Coke tasted better from a real bottle.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/6n7Eq5BkC8Y/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6n7Eq5BkC8Y?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Milkman</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Speaking of bottles – I’m sure there are rural areas of America where this service is still common, but in the 1960s most families still had their milk delivered by a man in a white uniform. The Baxters were one of them, as evidenced by the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hazel </i>episode “The Retiring Milkman.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6MoHZupXMao/XCK0c-ouQ_I/AAAAAAAADAc/rshFE2PPVgoSfdN4o52F1d5i-4vMT9IhACLcBGAs/s1600/x1080-TmV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1431" height="301" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6MoHZupXMao/XCK0c-ouQ_I/AAAAAAAADAc/rshFE2PPVgoSfdN4o52F1d5i-4vMT9IhACLcBGAs/s400/x1080-TmV.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Trading Stamps</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Many grocery stores and other retailers once gave trading stamps to customers, which could be saved in books and then used to purchase other items free or at a huge discount. The S&amp;H Green Stamp company was the best known.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SEv_XN9DjWc/XCK1AZlsocI/AAAAAAAADBA/mgQ77Vc8d_AMb_LvvL7nxMW2FKO-lJJ4QCLcBGAs/s1600/s_h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="987" data-original-width="1228" height="321" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SEv_XN9DjWc/XCK1AZlsocI/AAAAAAAADBA/mgQ77Vc8d_AMb_LvvL7nxMW2FKO-lJJ4QCLcBGAs/s400/s_h.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">You’ll hear references to these stamps in many classic sitcoms, most notably in the first-season <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brady Bunch</i> episode “54-40 and Fight.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tDSLD04bahk/XCK0hP2EQZI/AAAAAAAADAg/8Si5_ZZzIqEj9NWj5PcWwut7BXxsfeEAQCLcBGAs/s1600/drawer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="902" height="242" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tDSLD04bahk/XCK0hP2EQZI/AAAAAAAADAg/8Si5_ZZzIqEj9NWj5PcWwut7BXxsfeEAQCLcBGAs/s400/drawer.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Doctors Making House Calls</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">When a child was sick in the Comfort TV era, the doctor came to them. Perhaps this was done to save money on building a doctor’s office set for one episode, but such house calls were not rare at that time. A recurring theme in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Donna Reed Show</i> is the frequency of Alex Stone’s house calls, and how they interfered with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>spending time with his own children.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nX2s1FWzIjY/XCK0m9jHulI/AAAAAAAADAk/HkejkIoDDQ8kQxREBv_RrUeIbdh4KqadwCLcBGAs/s1600/7ea184a93db132c4e78d92c0dd73aad0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1090" data-original-width="1042" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nX2s1FWzIjY/XCK0m9jHulI/AAAAAAAADAk/HkejkIoDDQ8kQxREBv_RrUeIbdh4KqadwCLcBGAs/s400/7ea184a93db132c4e78d92c0dd73aad0.jpg" width="381" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If you remember these, you may also remember:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Stable Doors (not just on stables!)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jCvFqqRf47s/XCK0vGc1DdI/AAAAAAAADAs/mg8NmcynsTYIXjJrX91Y1GHMKu6t5OzxwCLcBGAs/s1600/1416878993_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jCvFqqRf47s/XCK0vGc1DdI/AAAAAAAADAs/mg8NmcynsTYIXjJrX91Y1GHMKu6t5OzxwCLcBGAs/s400/1416878993_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Babies being fed Pablum</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Doing Homework on a Typewriter</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yF2gc3T9bYc/XCK05UDFFFI/AAAAAAAADA4/ijJhi7CIgrMAh4Pz1fNbqBMNzhZR3P23QCLcBGAs/s1600/142791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yF2gc3T9bYc/XCK05UDFFFI/AAAAAAAADA4/ijJhi7CIgrMAh4Pz1fNbqBMNzhZR3P23QCLcBGAs/s400/142791.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Slumber Parties</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Students Singing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” On a School Bus</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">What are some of your favorite bygone sights and sounds from the classic TV era? </span></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} a:link, span.MsoHyperlink {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-parent:""; color:blue; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed {mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; color:purple; mso-themecolor:followedhyperlink; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-19375744479012742712018-12-17T15:01:00.000-08:002018-12-17T15:01:00.917-08:00A Classic (Non-Controversial) Christmas Duet <br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Mention holiday duets, and thoughts immediately turn to “Baby It’s Cold Outside” which has been rebranded as offensive by people with ugliness in their souls.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/gK2x_bnzwZU/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gK2x_bnzwZU?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">What surprises me is how surprised other people are by this controversy, as this is hardly the first year it has flared up. There was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Salon</i>piece back in 2012 that asked the question “Is Baby, It’s Cold Outside” a date-rape anthem?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The answer: No, it’s not. Is there a seductive, flirtatious quality to the give-and-take in the lyric? Absolutely. But to twist that into something violent and sinister – I feel sorry for anyone with such a grim view of romance. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’m sure many believe such an interpretation would have been deemed ludicrous in any other moment but this one. But humanity has always had its outliers. Back in the 1970s, at a White House state dinner for President Gerald Ford, musical guests The Captain and Tennille performed “Muskrat Love.” Interviewed later, one of those in attendance found that song choice offensive, because the lyrics about animals making love were inappropriate for such an occasion.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/KgCk3bnvO5Y/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KgCk3bnvO5Y?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The difference is that such views were once easily identified for what they were, and dismissed. Today, they seem to find no shortage of converts. Heaven help us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">That took longer than expected – let’s get back to Comfort TV, and the Christmas duet that became a beloved standard of that era, through annual performances on Bob Hope’s Christmas specials.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_dZYEZyKhtE/XBcx3UOucxI/AAAAAAAAC_o/TV9BTN7tS4INYMQ87ttxZ4DsMxQp7KX1QCLcBGAs/s1600/51eVpb36dLL._SX342_QL70_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="424" data-original-width="342" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_dZYEZyKhtE/XBcx3UOucxI/AAAAAAAAC_o/TV9BTN7tS4INYMQ87ttxZ4DsMxQp7KX1QCLcBGAs/s400/51eVpb36dLL._SX342_QL70_.jpg" width="322" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Hope’s first Christmas show aired in 1953. His last was in 1994. Let that sink in. If you were 10 years old in 1953, you spent an hour of your holiday season with Bob Hope every year until you turned 51. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I started watching them as a kid in the 1970s, and it became a tradition for the next two decades. I couldn’t recall one comedy sketch all these years later. But I do remember that in most of the shows I watched, there would be a scene in which Bob and one of his female guest stars would stroll through a wintry scene, performing “Silver Bells” as a duet.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--OZZ-WQu2Tk/XBcx88eNogI/AAAAAAAAC_s/SnqQg-TyMiY8AWhT0ChWfXNDiM-WY0QZwCLcBGAs/s1600/maxresdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--OZZ-WQu2Tk/XBcx88eNogI/AAAAAAAAC_s/SnqQg-TyMiY8AWhT0ChWfXNDiM-WY0QZwCLcBGAs/s400/maxresdefault.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">At the time Hope was a national treasure, one of the best-known and most beloved entertainers in America. So it was surprising to read the following quote from Terry Teachout, taken from his review of a Hope biography: “the comedian, who died in 2003 at the age of 100 and is now largely forgotten.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I read that quote in Mitchell Hadley’s excellent book on television, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Electronic Mirror</i>. He was shocked by it, but there’s likely more truth in that opinion than either of us wish to believe. Teachout is a prominent author and playwright, as well as the drama critic for the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wall Street Journal</i>, so this isn’t drivel from a millennial blog that thinks pop culture started with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Game of Thrones</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s through television that I remember Hope best, though his career predates the medium with appearances on the vaudeville stage, on radio and in movies. Thinking back on the wonderful “Road” pictures he did with Bing Crosby, I wondered if the most influential singer of the 20<sup>th</sup> century might also be forgotten; but this time of year “White Christmas” still gets played, and hopefully that intrigues the young’uns enough to wonder what else that guy did.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t48QY1wkb_s/XBcySTXXBsI/AAAAAAAAC_4/Jts8bKuv-QIAHpnV3-Z723_9hBSuaCEywCLcBGAs/s1600/lamour-crosby-hope-road-to-bali-1952-1024x715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="715" data-original-width="1024" height="278" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t48QY1wkb_s/XBcySTXXBsI/AAAAAAAAC_4/Jts8bKuv-QIAHpnV3-Z723_9hBSuaCEywCLcBGAs/s400/lamour-crosby-hope-road-to-bali-1952-1024x715.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">When TV came along Hope was among the first entertainers to embrace it. From 1950 to 1996 he headlined 272 variety specials on NBC. I suspect that record will stand for some time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Silver Bells” was part of the Christmas shows because it was a song already associated with the comedian, who performed it as a duet with Marilyn Maxwell in the 1951 film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Lemon Drop Kid</i>. It might have become his signature song had <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>“Thanks For the Memories” not already claimed that title.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UNwGVgfkcgI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UNwGVgfkcgI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Over the years, Hope’s duet partners included Barbara Eden, Dolly Parton, Marie Osmond, Dixie Carter and Reba McEntire, as well as Bob’s wife Dolores. I also believe there were versions with Shirley Jones, Crystal Gayle and Ann Jillian, but sadly there are very few performances online or details about these specials on IMDB.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">However, I don’t have to do any research to know which version is my favorite: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/2BjaRHH8q-g/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2BjaRHH8q-g?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Moments like these are nice memories to have. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’ll let Mitchell Hadley, whose book makes <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Electronic-Mirror-Classic-Everything-Between/dp/1732620709/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1545024539&amp;sr=8-1&amp;keywords=The+Electronic+Mirror" target="_blank"><u>a great holiday gift for any classic TV fan</u></a>, have the last word: “Terry Teachout may well be right that Bob Hope is forgotten today. But if he is, and if Hope is nothing more than a piece of the fog of things past, then we are the ultimate losers.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Of course, that’s never going to happen around here, as celebrating the past is what this blog has always been about. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Merry Christmas from Comfort TV!&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/nME-gI6GU-s/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nME-gI6GU-s?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-80600744152197437592018-12-07T15:03:00.000-08:002018-12-07T15:03:01.683-08:00The Unshakeables: “Patterns”<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Any history of television that does not recognize Rod Serling as the medium’s first transcendent writer should be viewed with skepticism.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bCKyCQGSQRE/XAjE6YRH3_I/AAAAAAAAC_A/QxnAXUmcCkkALq1GynT07tFXJNeas4zLwCLcBGAs/s1600/serling-typewriter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="794" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bCKyCQGSQRE/XAjE6YRH3_I/AAAAAAAAC_A/QxnAXUmcCkkALq1GynT07tFXJNeas4zLwCLcBGAs/s400/serling-typewriter.jpg" width="317" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">There were other titans in that pioneering era, from Paddy Chayefsky to Reginald Rose. But Serling was more prodigious, more prolific, and more willing to cast a critical eye on the times in which he lived. His association with the macabre, made indelible by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Twilight Zone</i>, tends to overshadow many other brilliant scripts for TV’s once-abundant anthology series, including “A Town Has Turned to Dust,” “Requiem For a Heavyweight,” and a 1955 episode of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kraft Television Theater</i> that is, indeed, unshakeable.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ldplpjiiudk/XAjEvvXe10I/AAAAAAAAC-8/T6hS5ZUP4ZkJq972Ylr7rWIFM1bDW8ecgCLcBGAs/s1600/kraft1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1190" data-original-width="1600" height="296" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ldplpjiiudk/XAjEvvXe10I/AAAAAAAAC-8/T6hS5ZUP4ZkJq972Ylr7rWIFM1bDW8ecgCLcBGAs/s400/kraft1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Patterns” is a 60-minute teleplay in three acts. Act One takes us into the corporate offices of Ramsey and Co., a thriving conglomerate located on the top floor of a New York skyscraper. What they actually do is never specified, because it’s not relevant: the company serves to represent many such businesses in Manhattan, all of which have board meetings and discuss budgets and acquisitions, with the apparent sole purpose of making more money.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bt7SRSAuro4/XAjFCFHPLYI/AAAAAAAAC_I/rA1inOb1yYkqrc2AWh7n214l-w2K_rJaQCLcBGAs/s1600/tumblr_inline_nixenghQ7m1sdir3o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bt7SRSAuro4/XAjFCFHPLYI/AAAAAAAAC_I/rA1inOb1yYkqrc2AWh7n214l-w2K_rJaQCLcBGAs/s400/tumblr_inline_nixenghQ7m1sdir3o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The story opens with secretaries (one played by Elizabeth Montgomery) gossiping about the arrival of a new executive. Fred Staples (Richard Kiley), recruited by Mr. Ramsey himself from Cincinnati, is warmly welcomed by his new coworkers, who expect big things from this young and energetic go-getter.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qMnGAIOzsM0/XAjFHaoFkBI/AAAAAAAAC_M/CtY5o9gAeREGEbV6bX67ZeexvmiuloTfgCLcBGAs/s1600/tumblr_inline_nixeobMNfy1sdir3o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qMnGAIOzsM0/XAjFHaoFkBI/AAAAAAAAC_M/CtY5o9gAeREGEbV6bX67ZeexvmiuloTfgCLcBGAs/s400/tumblr_inline_nixeobMNfy1sdir3o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If there’s someone on the way up in an organization like this, it means there’s likely someone on the way down; that would be Andy Sloane (Ed Begley), 24 years with the firm and “the last of the original bunch.” Everyone knows he’s lost the confidence of the boss (Everett Sloane) but he soldiers on, leaning more heavily than usual on the bottle of booze in his desk drawer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Act Two opens one month later. Fred Staples has surpassed expectations, resulting in a shift of work toward him and away from Andy Sloane. Despite this the two men get along well, and Fred supports the input Andy provides into the company’s annual report. Mr. Ramsey is impressed as well, though he refuses to acknowledge Andy’s contributions, even going so far as to cross his name off the final draft. Fred protests, but to no avail. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The consequences of Ramsey’s actions reach their climax in the final act. Andy Sloane’s fate is not a happy one. An outraged Fred storms into Mr. Ramsey’s office, ready to throw away his future with the company and take a stand for fairness and common decency. But when he walks out, he’s still on the payroll. “I’ll be late,” he tells his wife, as he prepares to tackle the stack of papers on his desk. “Aren’t you always?” she replies. Fade to black.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I know – doesn’t sound all that exciting. Why would anyone watch 60 minutes of office politics on a show that aired 63 years ago?&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sYBKSPOTw5E/XAjFNk0EufI/AAAAAAAAC_U/W1eySSnTDzgn3XY1x9IcGnR3uHcEXtHRgCLcBGAs/s1600/pubPatterns02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="595" height="308" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sYBKSPOTw5E/XAjFNk0EufI/AAAAAAAAC_U/W1eySSnTDzgn3XY1x9IcGnR3uHcEXtHRgCLcBGAs/s400/pubPatterns02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But the excellence of “Patterns” was recognized immediately after its January 12, 1955 broadcast. The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">New York Times</i> critic called it a breakthrough in television drama, and suggested a second showing for anyone who might have missed such a splendid show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Amazingly, the NBC network obliged, gathering the cast back together for a second live performance on February 9. That was the first time that happened in the medium’s history. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In a September 1974 article in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">TV Guide</i>, John Crosby writes that the day after “Patterns” first aired, it’s author was famous: “Within two weeks Serling, a struggling author up to then, got 23 offers of TV assignments, three movie offers and 14 requests for interviews from newspapers and magazines.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Later that year, the show won him his first Emmy. The following year, he expanded his script for a 90-minute feature film version. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Clearly this was material that resonated with viewers at the time. But great writing also resonates across the ages, which is why I believe you could take the same script and transfer it to a Silicon Valley tech firm in the present day, and it would work just as well. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The cutthroat corporate world was one that apparently fascinated Rod Serling – or perhaps repelled is a more accurate description. What do these jobs give you, he asks –&nbsp;status and prestige. Some financial security. A nice home in Connecticut. But at what price? “They keep chipping away at your pride, your security,” Andy Sloane says at one point. Is it worth it? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Serling returned to this theme throughout his career. There are elements of “Patterns” is the standout <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Twilight Zone</i> story “A Stop at Willoughby,” and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Night Gallery</i>’s most famous episode (“They’re Tearing Down Tim Riley’s Bar”).&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3WeMrBqR_rc/XAjFa3_5qXI/AAAAAAAAC_c/5hlmDbDd888GKIfJF9LMciryclDTd607ACLcBGAs/s1600/twilight-zone-a-stop-at-willoughby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="1400" height="263" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3WeMrBqR_rc/XAjFa3_5qXI/AAAAAAAAC_c/5hlmDbDd888GKIfJF9LMciryclDTd607ACLcBGAs/s400/twilight-zone-a-stop-at-willoughby.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But “Patterns” was the cornerstone. And anyone who is serious about experiencing the best of classic TV should see it<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>– which is easy to do as it’s been on YouTube for years. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If you do, I hope it will inspire you to watch more live television dramas from the 1950s. There are technical limitations they have to surmount, but these only remind us of how today’s television distracts its audience with shallow spectacle, because it lacks the quality and substance of the Golden Age programs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Patterns” offers no elaborate sets, no fancy camera movements, no swelling music to cue the viewer on when to get excited. It’s just a terrific script performed by great actors – all getting it right the first time, because there was no other choice. </span> <style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-83233362916253946682018-11-28T15:04:00.002-08:002018-11-28T15:04:36.268-08:00Comfort TV Couldn’t Crack the Marvel Universe<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Along with millions around the world, I mourned the recent passing of Stan Lee.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_GHTX2K2bQo/W_4pOePmLgI/AAAAAAAAC94/tzqvGoKpZVkRta25ZzPtZCxqqNdR0MbtgCLcBGAs/s1600/thor_hulk_lee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="721" data-original-width="1024" height="281" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_GHTX2K2bQo/W_4pOePmLgI/AAAAAAAAC94/tzqvGoKpZVkRta25ZzPtZCxqqNdR0MbtgCLcBGAs/s400/thor_hulk_lee.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Long before I cared enough about television to write books about it, I was a comic book fan – specifically a Marvel Comics fan. The first comic I ever bought, off a spinner rack at 7-11, was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Defenders</i> #23 – a team book featuring The Hulk, Dr. Strange, Valkyrie and Nighthawk. I was instantly hooked and quickly worked my way up to buying about 20 Marvel comics every month, a custom that continued for the next two decades. I also began buying back issues; at one point I had amassed full runs of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">X-Men</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Daredevil</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Iron Man</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Avengers</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I don’t have them anymore. Long story. Not a happy one. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">As a fan I looked forward to the moments when Marvel characters would appear on television. But as much as I love the Comfort TV era and still prefer it to what’s on television today, I must concede that when it came to adapting the brilliant co-creations of Stan Lee, the medium failed miserably.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/BVJwXh1P1NQ/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BVJwXh1P1NQ?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Thankfully, we are now in a golden age of superhero films when these characters have been brought to life with respect for the source material, with writers and directors and actors that get why they were popular in the first place, and with the budget to convincingly portray super-heroics through sophisticated special effects. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Now that audiences have embraced Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Spider-Man and many others the way they were meant to be seen, we can now look back on TV’s first attempts with less ire. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Affection? Not quite. Amusement? Absolutely. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">As a Marvel fan I also celebrate how that company has now surpassed rival DC in its adaptations, something that was not true in the Comfort TV era. The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Batman</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wonder Woman</i> series were not perfect but they were successful – they added to the richness of the characters rather than detracting from them. And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Superman: the Movie</i> was as good as it gets, then or now.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kULWR6UYHb8/W_4qLUoq2jI/AAAAAAAAC-E/qdsw0eHVJtAlMTD9lw3F-8HOmSefUlYSACLcBGAs/s1600/Superman-the-Movie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="1018" height="311" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kULWR6UYHb8/W_4qLUoq2jI/AAAAAAAAC-E/qdsw0eHVJtAlMTD9lw3F-8HOmSefUlYSACLcBGAs/s400/Superman-the-Movie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It was released in 1978, the same year television introduced Peter Hooten as Marvel’s Dr. Strange. That exemplifies how, back then, the two companies were playing at very different levels.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JRfDSVwJp70/W_4p_LDZg1I/AAAAAAAAC-A/7KbD3kCkJNAss7O_kUX1237NW-7P797sACLcBGAs/s1600/Dr-Strange-tv-movie-692755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="590" height="236" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JRfDSVwJp70/W_4p_LDZg1I/AAAAAAAAC-A/7KbD3kCkJNAss7O_kUX1237NW-7P797sACLcBGAs/s400/Dr-Strange-tv-movie-692755.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Sadly, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dr. Strange</i> series pilot was one of Marvel’s less cringe-worthy attempts, compared to such disasters as the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Captain America</i> (1979) TV movie that ignores everything that makes the character iconic. What were viewers supposed to think when a hero revered as much for his ideology as his exploits hems and haws through the death of a friend, and several attempts on his own life, before finally coming to his country’s aid? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Reb Brown played the title role, having apparently wandered in from a bodybuilding contest at Venice Beach. He’s a bad actor who drifts in and out of a Southern accent and obliterates what little was left of the character’s dignity.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vo0dcYaHuQY/W_4qQOolSnI/AAAAAAAAC-I/P2BguVtmRSoACPJpzk7BylXUjcvz_LzBgCLcBGAs/s1600/captain767676761979_cap_03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="522" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vo0dcYaHuQY/W_4qQOolSnI/AAAAAAAAC-I/P2BguVtmRSoACPJpzk7BylXUjcvz_LzBgCLcBGAs/s400/captain767676761979_cap_03.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And yet, incompetent as this effort was all around, it still inspired a sequel, the imaginatively titled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Captain America II</i> (1979). It’s slightly better, but only in the way that a fender-bender is better than a rollover accident. One is clearly preferable, but you’ll be happier avoiding them both. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I covered the first attempt at a live-action Spider-Man in my <a href="http://comforttv.blogspot.com/2014/04/terrible-shows-i-like-amazing-spider.html" target="_blank"><u>Terrible Shows I Like</u></a> series. The costume and some of the wall-climbing effects were adequate, and Nicholas Hammond was amiable if a bit too hunky as ‘puny’ Peter Parker. But no Gwen or Mary Jane, no comic book rogues gallery, and no snappy patter while crime fighting renders this version something we settled for rather than fully embraced.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZuX2gmlitvY/W_4qgY_6jQI/AAAAAAAAC-U/51oCjY6Co2ourix7rBL-ZbYWAYOHkRv8wCLcBGAs/s1600/8171513f55f943cd0cf3db5cb07aa604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="736" height="287" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZuX2gmlitvY/W_4qgY_6jQI/AAAAAAAAC-U/51oCjY6Co2ourix7rBL-ZbYWAYOHkRv8wCLcBGAs/s400/8171513f55f943cd0cf3db5cb07aa604.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Ah, but what about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Incredible Hulk</i> (1978), you say? It was a popular series that lasted five seasons. Bill Bixby gave us a studied, moving performance as a mild-mannered intellectual tormented by the raging spirit within him. The Emmy-nominated music was wonderful, and everyone remembers Lou Ferrigno in his fright wig and green makeup.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/afQadmUZOLw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/afQadmUZOLw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Yes, it was a good show. But it also wasn’t The Hulk: It was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Fugitive</i> with a supernatural twist. Where Dr. Kimble searched for the one-armed man, David Banner (Bill Bixby) searched for a cure for his condition. And since the show would have ended as soon as he found one, there wasn’t much dramatic tension along the way. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’m sure there are fans that still prefer Ferrigno’s Hulk to the CGI creation rampaging through the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Avengers</i> films. I’m just not one of them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">We also have TV’s Hulk to thank (?) for introducing two more Stan Lee creations to live-action TV; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Incredible Hulk Returns</i> (1988) features Eric Kramer as Thor. One picture says it all: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-88Wk4vcqMoQ/W_4rVRl4EZI/AAAAAAAAC-g/cpbKJDPhKaAaNce-k9NP7XJFcyj6Kuu9wCLcBGAs/s1600/HulkReturns01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="650" height="283" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-88Wk4vcqMoQ/W_4rVRl4EZI/AAAAAAAAC-g/cpbKJDPhKaAaNce-k9NP7XJFcyj6Kuu9wCLcBGAs/s400/HulkReturns01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Trial of the Incredible Hulk</i> (1989) features <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tiger Beat</i>’s own Rex Smith as the blind hero Daredevil. He’s grittier than expected, but we’re still worlds away from the Netflix series starring Charlie Cox.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9yeprFOZ0Wc/W_4raBeJhYI/AAAAAAAAC-k/A_mYv56-dXEiEB6YuP6pAnsbpz1rIRo7ACLcBGAs/s1600/4575750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9yeprFOZ0Wc/W_4raBeJhYI/AAAAAAAAC-k/A_mYv56-dXEiEB6YuP6pAnsbpz1rIRo7ACLcBGAs/s400/4575750.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Stan Lee was listed as a consultant on these projects. That they all failed to some extent should not be viewed as a blot on his resume or his memory. Back then even someone of his stature in the comic book medium did not have the juice to demand script approval or closer adherence to the stories fans knew and loved. I’m glad he lived long enough to see them done right. I wish Jack Kirby had as well.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I9FJ1jaGqPA/W_4ruplmL8I/AAAAAAAAC-w/YnbzaCeNFWkFDy16wtaJhOkUNSwC-S6cwCLcBGAs/s1600/2-3-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="226" data-original-width="500" height="180" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I9FJ1jaGqPA/W_4ruplmL8I/AAAAAAAAC-w/YnbzaCeNFWkFDy16wtaJhOkUNSwC-S6cwCLcBGAs/s400/2-3-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-41150017224963851182018-11-19T15:30:00.000-08:002018-11-19T15:30:24.069-08:00Classic TV’s Most Unconvincing Indians<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">November means Thanksgiving, a time to remember that celebrated moment when Pilgrims and Indians shared a festive dinner table. Many of us first learned about the history and culture of Native Americans while studying Thanksgiving in elementary school. Hopefully those lessons were more accurate that what we learned from television during the Comfort TV era.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0AbjI5dzKMo/W_JPT-KpeTI/AAAAAAAAC9E/EixmZfYTSSo0JJPx_xRruIuEjdQLVYonACLcBGAs/s1600/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0AbjI5dzKMo/W_JPT-KpeTI/AAAAAAAAC9E/EixmZfYTSSo0JJPx_xRruIuEjdQLVYonACLcBGAs/s400/hqdefault.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’m not going to condemn or defend the broad portrayals of Native-Americans in situation comedies. But I will say that when they were funny, I laughed. I don’t think that makes me a horrible person, but then we are rarely the best judges of our own characters. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">There were a few (comparatively) earnest portrayals in this era as well, beginning with Jay Silverheels as Tonto on the classic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lone Ranger</i> series.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bsKQMyjmvwc/W_JPaWavzHI/AAAAAAAAC9I/icNb6MqWh7EM1ZNVAM4RN0dka5Jek7LMgCLcBGAs/s1600/tonto-lr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="850" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bsKQMyjmvwc/W_JPaWavzHI/AAAAAAAAC9I/icNb6MqWh7EM1ZNVAM4RN0dka5Jek7LMgCLcBGAs/s400/tonto-lr.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It helped that Silverheels was indeed Native-American – a Mohawk from Six Nations of the Grand River in Ohsweken, Canada. While he spoke in the broken English common to most Indians in film and TV westerns (“Him dead, kemo sabe”), there was also dignity in the character, and frequent acknowledgment that this “faithful Indian companion” was not a sidekick but a full partner in the Lone Ranger’s crime fighting exploits. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And then there was this guy:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/9Dmtkxm9yQY/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9Dmtkxm9yQY?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Nearly 50 years later it is still a remarkably effective public service announcement, even if the crying Indian, billed as Iron Eyes Cody, was actually an Italian actor named Espera DeCorti. His work here belies the now common assertion that performers should always be the same ethnicity as the characters they play. Could anyone else have made that final image more heartrending? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I think I’d also have to put Ed Ames in the positive category, for his long-running portrayal of Mingo on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Daniel Boone</i> (and perhaps also for the most famous tomahawk throw in the history of television). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/0L5QC9ZJkM8/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0L5QC9ZJkM8?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But enough praise – let’s get to those offensive but amusing stereotypes. Here are the nominees for classic TV’s most unconvincing Indians.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Bernie Kopell as Black Salmon </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Petticoat Junction</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> (1964)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In “The Umquaw Strip,” series villain Homer Bedloe discovers that the Cannonball passes through a stretch of land that was never legally acquired from the Indians. His scheme to shut down the railroad fails, but it does offer a chance to see Bernie Kopell, one of TV’s most prolific sitcom character actors, play a member of the Umquaw tribe (one who attended Harvard Business School). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Don Rickles as Bald Eagle </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">F Troop</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> (1965)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If any series specialized in the type of Native American ethnic humor that typified this gleefully unenlightened era, it’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">F Troop</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/WYkUNuMD8pc/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WYkUNuMD8pc?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">As if Frank DeKova’s recurring role as Chief Wild Eagle was not enough, the show featured a succession of guest stars who joined the tribe for some equally inappropriate banter, none more memorable than Don Rickles in “The Return of Bald Eagle.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Rickles is totally unhinged as Wild Eagle’s soldier-hating son.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zZ53WzpHR84/W_JQWY22kwI/AAAAAAAAC9Y/6vpyWefzQIE-a_RMwfXDP7aSaNG0tfcNACLcBGAs/s1600/dr4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zZ53WzpHR84/W_JQWY22kwI/AAAAAAAAC9Y/6vpyWefzQIE-a_RMwfXDP7aSaNG0tfcNACLcBGAs/s400/dr4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Don Adams as Running Creek</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Get Smart</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> (1965)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">A rogue band of Indians called the Red Feathers demand the return of their stolen land, or they’ll unleash a powerful new weapon. Max infiltrates the tribe and winds up engaged to the chief’s daughter. Of course Agent 86 in buckskins is funny, but “Washington 4, Redskins 3” also unveils one of the funniest sight gags in the history of television. The first time I saw it, I thought I’d never stop laughing.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-50m1ArsOV74/W_JQbSxHIQI/AAAAAAAAC9c/EVF3T3k1doIqirzC3hd-7ZyA30uTEGZkQCLcBGAs/s1600/th-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="474" height="298" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-50m1ArsOV74/W_JQbSxHIQI/AAAAAAAAC9c/EVF3T3k1doIqirzC3hd-7ZyA30uTEGZkQCLcBGAs/s400/th-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Edward Everett Horton as Chief Screaming Chicken</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Batman</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> (1966)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The plot of “An Egg Grows in Gotham” is strikingly similar to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Petticoat Junction</i> episode with Bernie Kopell: Arch-criminal Egghead (Vincent Price) finds a technicality that would revert ownership of Gotham City to the Mohicans, now led by Chief Screaming Chicken. Edward Everett Horton steals every scene he’s in with the sort of lines you couldn’t say now without getting in trouble: “Indian poor businessman, my cousin, he sell Manhattan for 24 dollars, could have got 35!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a6F6QBIHA9s/W_JQgrAzBOI/AAAAAAAAC9g/7xBE-mx-hx4w-yp-oHP8HrUpFeCW15LWwCLcBGAs/s1600/Batman-EggheadGrows03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="630" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a6F6QBIHA9s/W_JQgrAzBOI/AAAAAAAAC9g/7xBE-mx-hx4w-yp-oHP8HrUpFeCW15LWwCLcBGAs/s400/Batman-EggheadGrows03.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Burt Reynolds at John Hawk</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Hawk</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> (1966)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">We’re told that John Hawk, detective with the New York District Attorney’s office, is a full-blooded Iroquois, but that just seems like something this short-lived series came up with to make a standard character more exotic. It’s also a role entirely unsuited to the charismatic Burt Reynolds. The stoic Hawk rarely cracks a smile and speaks in a slightly clipped monotone – like an urban Tonto. It’s a well-shot series that still has its supporters, judging from the high IMDB episode ratings, but Reynolds wasn’t one of them. It was a frequent target of his self-deprecating <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tonight Show</i>appearances. If you’re curious, check out the first episode, which features Gene Hackman as a Bible-quoting psychotic killer.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bxf3OQzu3FU/W_JQv5mCxAI/AAAAAAAAC9o/Q0lGGJaW56Ip5Mkl0fTtiGw9aNAfT8P3QCLcBGAs/s1600/8484574-l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1280" height="250" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bxf3OQzu3FU/W_JQv5mCxAI/AAAAAAAAC9o/Q0lGGJaW56Ip5Mkl0fTtiGw9aNAfT8P3QCLcBGAs/s400/8484574-l.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Raymond Bailey as “Chief” Drysdale</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Beverly Hillbillies</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> (1967)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">As in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Petticoat Junction</i>, another Paul Henning series, we have a white man impersonating an Indian to make a few bucks. Co-written by Henning, “The Indians are Coming” opens with the Clampetts learning about a minor border issue between their oil-rich land and the adjoining Crowfeet Indian reservation. </span><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot;;">At </span><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">the bank, Mr. Drysdale is roused by the news:&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot;;"><br /><br /></span><i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“They hit a gusher there! Send a message to my red brothers – Milburn Drysdale speak with straight tongue…send all black wampum my bank, we put in solid steel teepee.”</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot;;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Miss Jane: “No…there’s been a boundary dispute and the Indians are claiming part of the Clampett oil land.”</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot;;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Drysdale: “Why those dirty, thieving savages!” </span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot;;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The tribal representatives, Chief Running Wolf and his son, are cultured 20<sup>th</sup> century men who arrive at the bank to find Drysdale in full buckskins, spouting every Indian cliché from every western movie. The Chief and his son play along, letting him embarrass himself further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Willliam Shatner as Kir-ok</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Star Trek</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> (1968)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“The Paradise Syndrome” is not quite as bad as “Spock’s Brain” and “The Way to Eden,” but it dwells in the same rundown neighborhood of questionable third-season episodes. The Enterprise visits a planet populated by a tribe that resembles the Native-Americans from earth’s history. Kirk joins the tribe after his memory is wiped, and is soon being worshipped as the great healer, the only brave worthy of marrying the lovely Indian priestess Miramanee. It’s all a bit silly but William Shatner gives it everything he’s got and then some, as he always did to help sell a substandard script.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/8kXtIK0GqzM/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8kXtIK0GqzM?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-63612603800040463402018-11-08T23:08:00.001-08:002018-11-19T14:05:52.295-08:00Cindy or Lisa? Let’s Play “Know Your Eilbachers”<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Here is one more reason the Comfort TV era was better: it had more Eilbachers. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">From 1964 to 1990, viewers grew accustomed to seeing sisters Cindy and Lisa Eilbacher pop up on a wide range of classic shows and made-for-TV movies.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aRbRlNUR-Dc/W-Ut5YTiDsI/AAAAAAAAC8A/LEerwhW1llEjPPbyG3zZD0epJvYKxetdgCLcBGAs/s1600/cindy-eilbacher-1979-picture-id140810428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="418" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aRbRlNUR-Dc/W-Ut5YTiDsI/AAAAAAAAC8A/LEerwhW1llEjPPbyG3zZD0epJvYKxetdgCLcBGAs/s320/cindy-eilbacher-1979-picture-id140810428.jpg" width="218" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XLbmZA1fQSc/W-Ut9rlTzNI/AAAAAAAAC8E/fTdPWSMdv7M84a_ODacctw1resaeUDLyQCLcBGAs/s1600/lisa-eilbacher_020055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XLbmZA1fQSc/W-Ut9rlTzNI/AAAAAAAAC8E/fTdPWSMdv7M84a_ODacctw1resaeUDLyQCLcBGAs/s320/lisa-eilbacher_020055.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’ve always been intrigued by their background, as the Eilbacher family was fairly well-to-do: unlike many child stars of that era, the kids didn’t have to go to work to keep the mortgage paid. Their father was a top oil company executive, which explains why both sisters were born in Saudi Arabia. They spent their early childhood in Paris before moving to Beverly Hills. Not bad. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If I were forced to pick a favorite I’d go with Lisa, the older of the siblings by two years. She’s also probably the better-known of the two because of a pair of memorable movie roles: as the naval cadet who couldn’t get over that wall in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">An Officer and a Gentleman</i>, and as Eddie Murphy’s friend in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Beverly Hills Cop</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Cindy never found that signature role that resonated in the pop culture memory beyond its original broadcast. But I was still always happy to see her guest star in a favorite series. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">They worked together twice, playing sisters both times: first in a 1971 episode of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Alias Smith and Jones</i> (“The Posse That Wouldn’t Quit”), and later in the notorious 1974 TV movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bad Ronald</i>. It ranked #90 in my book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What Were They Thinking? The 100 Dumbest Events in Television History</i>, but after that book was published I quickly discovered what a huge cult following it still has.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wfA5BMBDrzA/W-UuXfq9K-I/AAAAAAAAC8M/r0Ro0y5UCwMY72WZCBfekY6HQqHb4VwNgCLcBGAs/s1600/Bad-Ronald-1974-01-05-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wfA5BMBDrzA/W-UuXfq9K-I/AAAAAAAAC8M/r0Ro0y5UCwMY72WZCBfekY6HQqHb4VwNgCLcBGAs/s400/Bad-Ronald-1974-01-05-30.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s sad they are not better remembered now, though I guess it’s not surprising as Cindy’s last credit was in 1987, and Lisa’s was in 1996. They don’t appear at nostalgia shows or even maintain Facebook pages. But as long as the splendid old shows are playing somewhere, they’ll remain part of our precious television heritage.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">How well do you know your Eilbachers? Let’s find out. If you want to guess, scroll down slowly so you don’t reveal the answer at the same time as the question.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">1. Which Eilbacher used her photographic memory to help Wonder Woman capture a casino operator with ties to the mob?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Answer</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Cindy</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Skateboard Wiz” (1978) was a great time-capsule episode of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wonder Woman</i>. It featured a skateboard competition (and possibly the first look at a half-pipe in classic TV), and an arcade filled with early video games (Sea Wolf!). Cindy played Jamie, a pigtailed teenage skateboarder: her stunt scenes were handled so well that it’s hard to believe that’s not her on the board.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mIpNLSxF6nA/W-UujZdRzwI/AAAAAAAAC8Q/N0ql7O9CWb8Vtxp-aYz7GId_T_pPhGCYQCLcBGAs/s1600/409645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mIpNLSxF6nA/W-UujZdRzwI/AAAAAAAAC8Q/N0ql7O9CWb8Vtxp-aYz7GId_T_pPhGCYQCLcBGAs/s400/409645.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">2. Which Eilbacher was Richie’s date to a sock hop in the first season of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Happy Days</i>?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Answer</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Cindy</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In “The Lemon,” Richie and Potsie buy an old clunker to impress their dates, with predictable results. This episode aired four years before her <i>Wonder Woman</i> appearance, but Cindy seems far more mature here as a teenage temptress.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sHzU1roGrdw/W-Uuo3bF4jI/AAAAAAAAC8U/g_wVBB2C-7ot9QWxSx2pzSyzGWezuj2XwCLcBGAs/s1600/t884jrjfmrfffjr4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="308" data-original-width="454" height="271" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sHzU1roGrdw/W-Uuo3bF4jI/AAAAAAAAC8U/g_wVBB2C-7ot9QWxSx2pzSyzGWezuj2XwCLcBGAs/s400/t884jrjfmrfffjr4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">3. Which Eilbacher starred in one of TV’s most famous sitcom flops, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My Mother the Car</i>?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Answer</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Cindy</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Yes, Cindy again<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>- just to frustrate those who guessed a Lisa show had to be next. She played Cindy Crabtree, daughter of Dave and Barbara (Jerry Van Dyke and Maggie Pierce). Just eight years old, she was featured in the episode “When You Wish Upon a Car,” which was about as good as this show got.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FpG-YFFDJ5o/W-UutpN4LpI/AAAAAAAAC8Y/FRIaJ4duMLs6cj3wMcJyKL6pComfknnUgCLcBGAs/s1600/mmc0071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="475" height="277" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FpG-YFFDJ5o/W-UutpN4LpI/AAAAAAAAC8Y/FRIaJ4duMLs6cj3wMcJyKL6pComfknnUgCLcBGAs/s400/mmc0071.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">4. Which Eilbacher played Callie Shaw, sidekick to Frank and Joe Hardy in <i>The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries</i>?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Answer</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Lisa</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">She appeared in six series episodes and was always an attractive and enthusiastic member of the sleuthing team. It was also a refreshing change to keep the trio as friends and not introduce a romance with Frank or Joe to disrupt the camaraderie. I wish they had kept Callie around for the entire series. And it’s a shame she never got to meet Nancy Drew.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YIsa25WT8io/W-Uuy2YCWWI/AAAAAAAAC8c/QWBx8xSKkgImimCD0Mm8gllkoq_xVG7WACLcBGAs/s1600/19%252BThe%252BBoys%252Band%252BCallie.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YIsa25WT8io/W-Uuy2YCWWI/AAAAAAAAC8c/QWBx8xSKkgImimCD0Mm8gllkoq_xVG7WACLcBGAs/s400/19%252BThe%252BBoys%252Band%252BCallie.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">5. Which Eilbacher played kidnapped socialite Patty Hearst in a 1979 Made-for-TV movie?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Answer</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Lisa</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">While it as certainly one of her most significant roles, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Ordeal of Patty Hearst</i> told its story more from the perspective of the FBI agent working the Hearst kidnapping, played here by Dennis Weaver. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">6. Which Eilbacher’s first professional credit was as Kimmie in the 1965 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bewitched</i> episode “Eye of the Beholder”? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Answer</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Cindy</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In her one scene, Kimmie is a cute little neighbor girl who picks up a heavy wheelbarrow that Darrin (zapped by Endora’s witchcraft) couldn’t budge. It’s of the series’ very best episodes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">7. Which Eilbacher Played Vicki, who was envious of Marcia being asked out by smarmy big man on campus Doug Simpson in the memorable <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brady Bunch</i>episode “The Subject was Noses”?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Answer</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Lisa</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s an unexceptional part in an exceptional episode, but she does what she can with it. If you’ve seen Lisa Eilbacher in other TV appearances, where she always appears petite next to her costars, you may be surprised as I was at how she’s nearly a head taller than Maureen McCormick here. Maybe Marcia only looks tall standing next to Jan and Cindy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CnXwvJP549Q/W-Uu6z-VNtI/AAAAAAAAC8k/fbs4uDH8GtoNDGqJ7983xcffGFI0qWHngCLcBGAs/s1600/shot0207.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="576" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CnXwvJP549Q/W-Uu6z-VNtI/AAAAAAAAC8k/fbs4uDH8GtoNDGqJ7983xcffGFI0qWHngCLcBGAs/s400/shot0207.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">8. Which Eilbacher played Dr. Ingrid Sorenson in the short-lived series <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ryan’s Four</i> (1983)? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Answer</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Lisa</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I don’t recall watching this series, but from the opening credits it appears to have an interesting cast, and likely represented Lisa’s best shot at series stardom.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/fx9iOn7RI0g/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/fx9iOn7RI0g?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">9. Which Eilbacher attended ballet class with Buffy on <i>Family Affair</i>? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Answer</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Cindy</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Ballerina Buffy” is another first-season episode that explores the understandable separation anxiety felt by little kids after their family home is uprooted – as well as the mistakes that are made by uncles who don’t yet know how to be good parents. You should be able to spot Cindy right away – decked out in red, standing behind Buffy at the barre.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wow8RDTSx84/W-UvJ4gz0YI/AAAAAAAAC8s/neTvetB0D_I0zA77CixCePHhA2209c8LQCLcBGAs/s1600/cindy-eilbacher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="720" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wow8RDTSx84/W-UvJ4gz0YI/AAAAAAAAC8s/neTvetB0D_I0zA77CixCePHhA2209c8LQCLcBGAs/s400/cindy-eilbacher.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">10. Which Eilbacher was rescued by Captain Marvel on the Saturday morning series <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shazam!</i>?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Answer</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Both!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">We end with a trick question, as both Eilbachers appeared in separate episodes of this short-lived series. In “The Doom Buggy,” Lisa plays the girlfriend of a high school dropout who gets lost in the desert. In “The Odd Couple,” it takes both Captain Marvel and Isis to save Cindy and her equally misguided boyfriend after they get lost in a forest. How is the Big Red Cheese going to vanquish Dr. Sivana when all these teenagers can’t find their way home?&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And if you’d like some Eilbacher extra credit, you’ll find one or the other in episodes of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My Three Sons</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Waltons</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bonanza</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gunsmoke</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Green Acres</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hawaii Five-O</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It Takes a Thief</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That Girl</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Police Story</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Streets of San Francisco</i>. IMDB has all the details. Happy hunting. </span></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-24257033710838321572018-11-01T15:06:00.000-07:002018-11-01T15:06:05.570-07:00How Classic Television Can Readjust Your Perspective<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">"Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?"</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> – Matthew 6:27</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Forget your troubles and just get happy.”</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> –&nbsp;Judy Garland, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Summer Stock</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’ve often written of my belief that the classic TV shows of the past have more to offer us than a few minutes of entertainment. I am reminded of this once again after a week of tragic and frightening news headlines.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EyBBtO0VjF0/W9qA_nqhV6I/AAAAAAAAC7Y/ml9QZnmEzdw9K64xw-GpA2BkphkqaH5OwCLcBGAs/s1600/Classic-TV.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="449" height="260" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EyBBtO0VjF0/W9qA_nqhV6I/AAAAAAAAC7Y/ml9QZnmEzdw9K64xw-GpA2BkphkqaH5OwCLcBGAs/s400/Classic-TV.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">There’s no question that Comfort TV can provide a respite from a world that a lot of people believe is descending into chaos. Should it be used that way? I know from personal experience that some people don’t think so. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“What, would you rather live in that fantasy world?” they ask. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Actually, yes, I would. I think most people would, especially in the wake of the kind of tragedies that happen in the real world. But that option is not available, and that’s not the point. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Granted, if you see a Breaking News bulletin about a mass shooting and immediately pop in a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Love Boat</i> episode to avoid the painful details, that’s not healthy. It’s a variation of the ‘safe spaces’ that have taken root on college campuses that deserve all the derision they have received.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rlXoPhpgvfI/W9qAvYdYntI/AAAAAAAAC7Q/8lFjy1wclg01ihV2R-xTIQaYtCwgZmbgwCLcBGAs/s1600/o-LOVE-BOAT-TV-SHOW-facebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rlXoPhpgvfI/W9qAvYdYntI/AAAAAAAAC7Q/8lFjy1wclg01ihV2R-xTIQaYtCwgZmbgwCLcBGAs/s400/o-LOVE-BOAT-TV-SHOW-facebook.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I watch a lot of news each day, and when there’s a major story I’ll often stay with it for hours. As a journalist I am interested not just in what is being reported but how the facts are (or are not) being communicated. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But when you dwell too long in that headspace, it alters your perspective. It becomes tempting to believe that such atrocities as school shootings or terrorist attacks or massacres in a house of worship are commonplace, and not extremely rare in a nation of 320 million people. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Be aware of current events, pray for the victims (sadly, even doing that has become a source of contention) and do what you can to try and make things better. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">After that, there’s nothing wrong with a reminder that this is still a good and noble nation – and classic TV is one way to do that.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F8wQkFrWICg/W9qBL35inRI/AAAAAAAAC7c/44VjO4zS5XwHAGYzERZx5RwvwWoYCEcuwCLcBGAs/s1600/best-classic-tv-shows-on-hulu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="690" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F8wQkFrWICg/W9qBL35inRI/AAAAAAAAC7c/44VjO4zS5XwHAGYzERZx5RwvwWoYCEcuwCLcBGAs/s400/best-classic-tv-shows-on-hulu.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Why the shows of the past and not current television? We’ve touched on this topic before: the shows from decades past were a source of happy shared memories among tens of millions of people; they are a common thread weaved throughout our culture; they portrayed a time when people were more sincere and less sarcastic; more civil and less cynical; they come from a time when it felt like we were more one nation (yes, under God) then different warring tribes. They show us families and communities that support each other. They show us cities where schools and offices and synagogues are safe. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In short, these shows offer a glimpse of the everyday that we recognize. They show us a picture of life in America – sure, one that focuses more on the positive, but the nightly news by its nature focuses more on the negative. As the old saying goes, there are no news stories about the thousands of planes that land safely every day. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Much of today’s television, sadly, does not provide a perspective for those seeking respite from our divisive times. Sitcoms are far more political now than they used to be. Try to recall any reference to whom was president or what legislation was working through congress on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Leave It To Beaver</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dennis the Menace</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Patty Duke Show</i> (in which patriarch Martin Lane worked at a New York newspaper!), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Love Lucy</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Dick Van Dyke Show</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Dream of Jeannie</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Odd Couple</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That Girl</i> or any other show from the 1950s through the 1970s that was not created by Norman Lear.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IqwXcIBCfGg/W9qBknh0z8I/AAAAAAAAC7o/qiHd7QbxEFQ-MWvSXTJtcvOw88WAKAIowCLcBGAs/s1600/Dennis%252C%2BHenry%252C%2BAlice%252C%2BMartha%252C%2BWilson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="609" height="256" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IqwXcIBCfGg/W9qBknh0z8I/AAAAAAAAC7o/qiHd7QbxEFQ-MWvSXTJtcvOw88WAKAIowCLcBGAs/s400/Dennis%252C%2BHenry%252C%2BAlice%252C%2BMartha%252C%2BWilson.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If you’d prefer to watch <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">All In the Family</i> to remind yourself that we’ve always had robust debate (and stereotypical cheap shots), that is your privilege. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Even the current shows where you’d most expect to find an escape from grim headlines can’t resist the urge to proselytize. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Supergirl</i> is in the midst of a season-long allegory about immigration and intolerance; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Doctor Who</i> took a shot at Donald Trump in last week’s episode. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Whatever your politics, there was a time when scripted television offered a wealth of opportunities to withdraw from that world and get happily lost for a while somewhere more pleasant. During this same era, which was certainly not immune from terrible headlines – a seemingly endless war in Vietnam, a president and a civil rights leader assassinated, runaway inflation and gas shortages –&nbsp;television gave us stories to laugh about, characters to admire, and positive portrayals of life in America. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">So go ahead – spend a little time watching Mr. Ed get the best of poor Wilbur, or Lucy try to get into Ricky’s show; have breakfast with the Andersons or dinner with the Waltons; laugh at the klutzy antics of Gilligan and Maxwell Smart. From <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">McHale’s Navy</i> to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My Three Sons</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ozzie and Harriet</i> to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Laverne and Shirley</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Flintstones</i> to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Flying Nun</i>, whatever your preferred sanctuary might be, allow it to reset your outlook, and remind you of the good things in life.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6tmbdita6jI/W9qB4ujMEnI/AAAAAAAAC7w/Txdpea5KGEoFfUGclluFQa0NV-EWkyeDwCLcBGAs/s1600/s-l1000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="869" data-original-width="1000" height="346" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6tmbdita6jI/W9qB4ujMEnI/AAAAAAAAC7w/Txdpea5KGEoFfUGclluFQa0NV-EWkyeDwCLcBGAs/s400/s-l1000.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">As one of the commercials from the Comfort TV era reminded us, you deserve a break today.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Cvzk2aPczHw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Cvzk2aPczHw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-46818836344213195642018-10-22T15:23:00.001-07:002018-10-22T15:23:02.484-07:00Classic TV Halloween Costumes<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Do kids still dress like their favorite TV characters for Halloween? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hRczkwK-zHk/W8yySJyzpII/AAAAAAAAC7E/xRQ_DK_kYwcp44rP6UnecO3B_moz133NACLcBGAs/s1600/42c88a198b05c50e171a3a2ad1c62591.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="244" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hRczkwK-zHk/W8yySJyzpII/AAAAAAAAC7E/xRQ_DK_kYwcp44rP6UnecO3B_moz133NACLcBGAs/s320/42c88a198b05c50e171a3a2ad1c62591.jpg" width="194" /></a></div><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I know adults do. Certainly shows like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Game of Thrones</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Doctor Who</i> have inspired memorable costume ideas. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But back in my day (I love saying that), television-themed costumes were as prevalent as those for monsters and superheroes. As a kid I’d look forward to that annual October trek to a store like K-Mart or Woolworth’s or Zayre or Turnstyle (if you were in the Midwest), where there would be an aisle near the front stocked with square, lightweight cardboard boxes, stacked high, each one containing a different identity you could assume for trick or treat.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--PBHfJecmAc/W8wEoOIwBBI/AAAAAAAAC5k/cyE4sjA9gzEBc_vq2jbwV0kRGBAfEsG4ACLcBGAs/s1600/6a92e8cde998393106ace999733e7db7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="282" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--PBHfJecmAc/W8wEoOIwBBI/AAAAAAAAC5k/cyE4sjA9gzEBc_vq2jbwV0kRGBAfEsG4ACLcBGAs/s400/6a92e8cde998393106ace999733e7db7.jpg" width="281" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The labels on the boxes promoted the name of the manufacturer – usually <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Collegeville or Ben Cooper. We didn’t pay much attention back then. All we cared about was who we were going to be for Halloween. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The contents of the boxes were always the same: a thin plastic mask with an elastic band to stretch around our heads. The eyeholes and nose holes were cut out so we could see and breathe. But if you wore glasses, you were already in trouble. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Below the mask was a colorful smock. Slip it around your body, put on the mask, and you’re good to go. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s a nice memory to have all these years later, and one that obscures the fact that the costumes themselves…were kind of lousy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Examples? This is supposed to be Caine, the character played by David Carradine in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kung Fu</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZFuHmeDm6zI/W8wEwJn1AtI/AAAAAAAAC5s/lkvNWL743OQePWmkBGJuK8LNbKnqoiHngCLcBGAs/s1600/s-l1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZFuHmeDm6zI/W8wEwJn1AtI/AAAAAAAAC5s/lkvNWL743OQePWmkBGJuK8LNbKnqoiHngCLcBGAs/s400/s-l1600.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Here’s The Bionic Woman. Jaime Sommers looks like a sleepy Judy Norton-Taylor.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WYD2eSoGKms/W8wE1FNiq3I/AAAAAAAAC5w/buhVDGnh-8M91mxS2m5Yhbi-KkRvPvUHACLcBGAs/s1600/jamie_costume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="345" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WYD2eSoGKms/W8wE1FNiq3I/AAAAAAAAC5w/buhVDGnh-8M91mxS2m5Yhbi-KkRvPvUHACLcBGAs/s400/jamie_costume.jpg" width="345" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And here’s Bo Duke from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Dukes of Hazzard</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pU-IHZp4Cvo/W8wFQ5FkWWI/AAAAAAAAC58/MEdq8XryDWUcYyH2wCeDgI5PgHSxH7k9wCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_20151014_134811461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pU-IHZp4Cvo/W8wFQ5FkWWI/AAAAAAAAC58/MEdq8XryDWUcYyH2wCeDgI5PgHSxH7k9wCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_20151014_134811461.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">By now you may be asking, as I did, why Ben Cooper packed many of its TV character costumes in “Superhero” boxes. I don’t have the answer. Sure, to young fans Bo Duke and The Fonz probably did seem heroic, but it still strikes me as lazy marketing.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u9-L9XHEOBU/W8wFYEg5oAI/AAAAAAAAC6A/Snd4bLs1AbokoBzo_rjz_giQzkUyQ1CRwCLcBGAs/s1600/s-l1600-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u9-L9XHEOBU/W8wFYEg5oAI/AAAAAAAAC6A/Snd4bLs1AbokoBzo_rjz_giQzkUyQ1CRwCLcBGAs/s400/s-l1600-1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Clearly, whatever money was saved from not designing a TV-themed box was not poured back into the actual costumes. The smock was the worst part. Instead of attempting to reproduce the clothing or uniform of the person being depicted, it was emblazoned with the character’s name in giant letters, or the logo of the TV show on which he or she appeared. It’s as if the company was saying, “No one will know who you’re supposed to be, so we might as well just tell them.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SF-GUH5yWz8/W8wFmhqUefI/AAAAAAAAC6I/hix-fA6cgqE427ANc-uNlnxyApe-i1R1wCLcBGAs/s1600/fad78be9b18942a3178c79d3034a7537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="226" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SF-GUH5yWz8/W8wFmhqUefI/AAAAAAAAC6I/hix-fA6cgqE427ANc-uNlnxyApe-i1R1wCLcBGAs/s400/fad78be9b18942a3178c79d3034a7537.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In retrospect we’d have been better off without them. What looks more like Fonzie: putting on a white t-shirt, pair of jeans and a black leather jacket, or this?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M5QJ2mnXYUI/W8wFwqgAEFI/AAAAAAAAC6Q/0uBKifuqZSgpSEUgcfAm_9-ervh7cdz7gCLcBGAs/s1600/8e02b8a23abb2405f212956b71cf056c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="379" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M5QJ2mnXYUI/W8wFwqgAEFI/AAAAAAAAC6Q/0uBKifuqZSgpSEUgcfAm_9-ervh7cdz7gCLcBGAs/s400/8e02b8a23abb2405f212956b71cf056c.jpg" width="188" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But at least the box reassured us that the costume was flame-retardant (or occasionally, unfortunately, “flame-retarded”). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-acgEcBIvCDM/W8wF4JhLPhI/AAAAAAAAC6U/f21I715ZjkUfx-f9_gBTwmhGZPdnsWeSACLcBGAs/s1600/s-l1600-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="872" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-acgEcBIvCDM/W8wF4JhLPhI/AAAAAAAAC6U/f21I715ZjkUfx-f9_gBTwmhGZPdnsWeSACLcBGAs/s400/s-l1600-2.jpg" width="376" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If the quality was substandard, the one place where these costumes surpassed expectations was in variety. Companies grabbed every license they could get, so if just one (slightly odd) child somewhere ever said, “This year for Halloween I want to be Captain Merrill Stubing from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Love Boat</i>,” Ben Cooper had him covered. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cFeO7lGzwQg/W8wGAkVnS2I/AAAAAAAAC6Y/hS4fcfvhobYEdefMrq3B7uinapqFfia4QCLcBGAs/s1600/1937d41eda95f2c46729d1187ff6e7fe--gavin-macleod-halloween-vintage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="503" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cFeO7lGzwQg/W8wGAkVnS2I/AAAAAAAAC6Y/hS4fcfvhobYEdefMrq3B7uinapqFfia4QCLcBGAs/s400/1937d41eda95f2c46729d1187ff6e7fe--gavin-macleod-halloween-vintage.jpg" width="247" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Were you a fan of Jennifer of the Jungle, as played by Judy Graubart on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Electric Company</i>, or Gary Gnu from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Great Space Coaster</i>? Then get ready to suit up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vqxw6TrgFGI/W8wGFn-695I/AAAAAAAAC6c/62Yub8DFkqYDfCN40iuRwgqX3y4xI4nYACLcBGAs/s1600/Ben-Cooper-Costumes-Gary-Gnu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1027" data-original-width="770" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vqxw6TrgFGI/W8wGFn-695I/AAAAAAAAC6c/62Yub8DFkqYDfCN40iuRwgqX3y4xI4nYACLcBGAs/s400/Ben-Cooper-Costumes-Gary-Gnu.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">While I retain some vague memories of shopping for my costumes, I don’t remember throwing them away after Halloween, though that’s what all of us did. If you saved yours, you are now reaping the benefits: that “flame-retarded” Farrah Fawcett costume can fetch up to $150 on eBay. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But at least you still have your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Charlie’s Angels</i> lunchbox, right?&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qP-dWASS1sg/W8wGU9VqyJI/AAAAAAAAC6s/H1rVb6ppLIwrcgF4OUC23LRbQu8tjaXLwCLcBGAs/s1600/a4432b0aa18f6d63c065456babe23739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="296" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qP-dWASS1sg/W8wGU9VqyJI/AAAAAAAAC6s/H1rVb6ppLIwrcgF4OUC23LRbQu8tjaXLwCLcBGAs/s400/a4432b0aa18f6d63c065456babe23739.jpg" width="236" />&nbsp;</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_b6AGsBsOTM/W8wGY_devCI/AAAAAAAAC6w/CNdt-fosJTML1ip8nVFJJzHCGBL1t8bYACLcBGAs/s1600/steve_costume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="491" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_b6AGsBsOTM/W8wGY_devCI/AAAAAAAAC6w/CNdt-fosJTML1ip8nVFJJzHCGBL1t8bYACLcBGAs/s400/steve_costume.jpg" width="325" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-25552725324032917872018-10-12T15:00:00.000-07:002018-11-19T14:04:41.639-08:00Top TV Moments: Vincent Price<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The approach of All Hallows’ Eve is an opportune time to remember ten classic TV appearances of Vincent Price. Sorry, no <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo</i>. Hit the bricks, Scrappy fans.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IfavX4dAcU4/W8BFsZHp7fI/AAAAAAAAC5Q/61NP9FsnkHkhz3hurOXa-GrLYRgZApD2QCLcBGAs/s1600/price-vincent-03-g.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="788" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IfavX4dAcU4/W8BFsZHp7fI/AAAAAAAAC5Q/61NP9FsnkHkhz3hurOXa-GrLYRgZApD2QCLcBGAs/s400/price-vincent-03-g.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Price enjoyed a rich and varied career in film and television, but will always be best known for the horror genre. Among his best – a series of film adaptations of Edgar Allen Poe works, produced by Roger Corman, and stylish schlock like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Abominable Dr. Phibes</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Some of that notoriety carried over into his TV work, but Price also appeared in a diverse range of projects. The only real common denominators among his characters are the traits for which Price himself was famous –&nbsp;intelligence, sophistication, and that distinctive, cultivated voice so well suited to eloquent narration. Which brings us to our first selection…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Christmas Carol (1949)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I rarely get to list credits from the 1940s in these pieces, especially of episodes that not only still exist but still turn up on cable. In his first television appearance, Price is the on-screen narrator for this abridged adaption of the classic Charles Dickens holiday tale. Seated in a festively decorated living room, Price’s recitation of passages from the story are interspersed within a (rather florid) version of Scrooge’s redemption.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CgK8ROshi7s/W8BFmS6B5AI/AAAAAAAAC5I/399Bq4e4C0cKaQHD0ywbiV21ojRkGw3EQCLcBGAs/s1600/thecarolprice3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="621" height="298" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CgK8ROshi7s/W8BFmS6B5AI/AAAAAAAAC5I/399Bq4e4C0cKaQHD0ywbiV21ojRkGw3EQCLcBGAs/s400/thecarolprice3.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Summer Theatre (1953)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Dream Job” is one of those buried treasures waiting to be rediscovered amidst dozens of 1950s anthology series episodes now playing on YouTube. Joan Leslie plays a young girl who dreams of the perfect job, working for the perfect man. When writer Cooper Fielding (Price) hires her as his secretary, it appears her dream has materialized. But we know what happens when something seems too good to be true. This is Price at his most charming, and his most frightening. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Playhouse 90 (1956)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This revered anthology series launched in grand style with “Forbidden Area,” written by Rod Serling, directed by John Frankenheimer, and starring Charlton Heston, Vincent Price and Tab Hunter. The grim, suspenseful story concerns a Soviet saboteur who manages to ground America’s first line of air defense, as a precursor to an all-out Russian attack on Christmas Eve. Heston plays a military man who sounds the alarm, while Price is perfect as a feckless bureaucrat who refuses to believe disaster is imminent.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-32-e8_cuwwE/W8BFhStaiiI/AAAAAAAAC5E/eOMl29lvYzkjTPCq2HoBrH9UsTuFpZnxgCLcBGAs/s1600/hqdefault-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-32-e8_cuwwE/W8BFhStaiiI/AAAAAAAAC5E/eOMl29lvYzkjTPCq2HoBrH9UsTuFpZnxgCLcBGAs/s400/hqdefault-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Science Fiction Theater (1956)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In “Operation Flypaper,” Price is among a team of scientists attending a secret gathering to “mine the treasures of the deep”; but no sooner do they arrive than scientific equipment begins to disappear, while time mysteriously jumps forward after every theft. This is one of the rare 1950s series to actually film a full season of episodes in color. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1957)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">One of the few episodes directed by Hitchcock himself, “The Perfect Crime” is basically one long conversation between a vain detective (Price) and a defense attorney (James Gregory) who has seen more than one client executed as a result of the detective’s deductions. This may be the quintessential Price performance – so elegant in speech, sophisticated in manner, and yet with a deep obsession toward the macabre.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dNxABl2R1BI/W8BFKPuvw1I/AAAAAAAAC4w/qd6aQ-7pYB0rPY-4fF8XaIfg8g_PwVGCACLcBGAs/s1600/The%252BPerfect%252BCrime%252B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="978" data-original-width="1259" height="310" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dNxABl2R1BI/W8BFKPuvw1I/AAAAAAAAC4w/qd6aQ-7pYB0rPY-4fF8XaIfg8g_PwVGCACLcBGAs/s400/The%252BPerfect%252BCrime%252B1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Have Gun Will Travel (1958)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Paladin warns two Shakespearian players against taking their show to San Diego at cattle round-up time, when cowboys tend to shoot first and applaud later. Of course, egotistical actors have to learn everything the hard way. “The Moor’s Revenge” is not one of this western’s better episodes, but the casting makes it worth seeing: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Vincent Price and Patricia Morrison as the actors, plus Morey Amsterdam in a rare serious role. It’s also a treat to watch Price perform Desdemona’s death scene from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Othello</i>– even if it’s in a saloon.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sz8-FP8VrMA/W8BFcdNqEWI/AAAAAAAAC5A/EEioeY5jTx00owB6YRkbemWU2vaTmZV3wCLcBGAs/s1600/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sz8-FP8VrMA/W8BFcdNqEWI/AAAAAAAAC5A/EEioeY5jTx00owB6YRkbemWU2vaTmZV3wCLcBGAs/s400/hqdefault.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Batman (1966)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s a toss-up between Egghead and King Tut for the title of best Batman villain created by the TV series. While Victor Buono’s outsized scenery chewing is hard to top, I’ve always preferred Price’s eggs to Buono’s ham, at least until the character was emasculated by Anne Baxter’s Olga. Introduced as the Caped Crusader’s smartest adversary in “An Egg Grows in Gotham/The Yegg Foes in Gotham” Egghead wastes no time in preparing a profile to uncover Batman’s true identity. His reasoning is so logical and obvious you wonder why the entire Gotham police force was never able to put two and two together. No wonder they used the red phone so often.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t2r7kKOKHH8/W8BFS-N3kaI/AAAAAAAAC44/Hfeppb2eYkoaVpxczW-ol1bwj8MTXEZEwCLcBGAs/s1600/ed9719c6f5c4ccf8b265781e2ffc2dbd.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1090" data-original-width="1440" height="302" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t2r7kKOKHH8/W8BFS-N3kaI/AAAAAAAAC44/Hfeppb2eYkoaVpxczW-ol1bwj8MTXEZEwCLcBGAs/s400/ed9719c6f5c4ccf8b265781e2ffc2dbd.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Brady Bunch (1972)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Most <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brady</i> episodes don’t stray far from reality, but that cannot be said of “The Tiki Caves,” the final installment of the show’s three-part Hawaii adventure. The Brady boys try to break an island curse by visiting a burial ground of ancient kings, only to be abducted by an eccentric archaeologist. Just your average all-American family. This is probably Price’s most famous funny/scary TV performance. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/0Y0Yf2MpCuA/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0Y0Yf2MpCuA?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Bionic Woman (1976)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Black Magic” is as silly as this series ever got, but it’s hard to complain when the results are so much fun. Jaime goes undercover as a long-lost member of a family of crooks, who are sent on a scavenger hunt to secure the fortune of a wealthy, deceased relative. Vincent Price shares several delightful scenes with Lindsay Wagner, amidst the non-stop treachery and backstabbing of their fellow challengers, broadly played by Julie Newmar, Hermione Baddeley, William Windom and Abe Vigoda.&nbsp;</span><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Time Express (1979)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This miniseries was listed in my<u> <a href="https://comforttv.blogspot.com/2017/12/ten-forgotten-tv-shows-id-like-to-watch.html" target="_blank">“Forgotten Shows I’d Like to Watch” piece</a></u> from last year. Vincent Price played the conductor of a train that transported people to pivotal moments in their pasts, where they could change decisions they would later regret. Still haven’t seen it. Still want to.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/A_GP6Tf7lbw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/A_GP6Tf7lbw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-42122673900363166172018-10-03T14:50:00.000-07:002018-10-03T14:50:29.764-07:00Two Great New Books For the Comfort TV Fan<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://comforttv.blogspot.com/2017/05/tv-books-and-book-that-inspired-comfort.html" target="_blank"><u><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’ve written about my favorite classic TV books in the past</span></u></a><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">, and it’s always a joy when new ones appear that deserve a place in your collection. At a time when the market has never been more under-served, I am delighted to offer not one but two enthusiastic recommendations. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">First up: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Electronic Mirror</i>, written by my fellow classic TV blogger Mitchell Hadley. If you like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Comfort TV</i> you would also enjoy reading Hadley’s wonderful <a href="https://www.itsabouttv.com/" target="_blank"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>It’s About TV</u></i><u> blog</u></a>. You might even enjoy it more, but if you do keep that to yourself.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1llUjkniS6k/W7RSw84tnGI/AAAAAAAAC4A/MT9UY14uv9gXMtR_Jot-RxRZ8QNKpHufQCLcBGAs/s1600/TEM%252BAD5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="213" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1llUjkniS6k/W7RSw84tnGI/AAAAAAAAC4A/MT9UY14uv9gXMtR_Jot-RxRZ8QNKpHufQCLcBGAs/s400/TEM%252BAD5.png" width="266" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The book’s subtitle is “What classic TV tells us about who we were and who we are.” The short answer to that is “Quite a bit.” For the longer answer, pick up the book.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">As someone of the author’s approximate age and life experience, I found myself in agreement with many of his conclusions; the loss of the common cultural touchstones that television used to provide, before there were 400 channels and time-shifting technology; the communal experience of TV watching that has also disappeared; the worldview portrayed and the values expressed in shows from an earlier era, that might seem strange, foreign, perhaps even offensive to current generations ­– and why such condemnation is short-sighted.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-52rQCB0e4JQ/W7RS9IDlGWI/AAAAAAAAC4E/znkG6bRIP9MLFKih9fw2h3MPP9K76t3KgCLcBGAs/s1600/scene_from_leave_it_to_beaver_1958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1461" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-52rQCB0e4JQ/W7RS9IDlGWI/AAAAAAAAC4E/znkG6bRIP9MLFKih9fw2h3MPP9K76t3KgCLcBGAs/s400/scene_from_leave_it_to_beaver_1958.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Preaching to the converted? Absolutely. I nodded with every page turn like a Republican watching <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hannity</i>. But one does not have to prefer the Clampetts to the Kardashians to enjoy <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Electronic Mirror</i>. Anyone with a broader interest in the evolution of pop culture will find much to discover here: how cop shows from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragnet </i>to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Law and Order</i> may influence our perspective on crime and punishment; how one episode of a nearly forgotten series called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Medic</i> says as much about views on marriage and family in the 1950s as a sociology textbook; how situation comedies from the 1960s helped America win the Cold War (really!)&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UQ4LommNY_U/W7RTIp2nE2I/AAAAAAAAC4M/BonEQF16SH8AqTd4GKuCvoo_a42wdVINgCLcBGAs/s1600/harry-morgan-in-dragnet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="586" height="265" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UQ4LommNY_U/W7RTIp2nE2I/AAAAAAAAC4M/BonEQF16SH8AqTd4GKuCvoo_a42wdVINgCLcBGAs/s400/harry-morgan-in-dragnet.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This is a book from someone that gets it – why these shows are not just entertaining but important, and worthy of thoughtful study and reflection. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">From this outside look into classic TV, we now turn to an inside look at how some of its shows were created, through the memories of the men and women who wrote them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Sitcom Writers Talk Shop</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> features interviews with 16 remarkable writers, including Carl Reiner, Norman Lear, Leonard Stern, James L. Brooks, Larry Charles and David Lee. In addition, there are Forewords by Ed Asner and Carol Kane.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QJQQUp38EO8/W7RTUBi2XwI/AAAAAAAAC4U/Jn7eXgqX_Y0tgAi9O9VuTOA23O6n7p2PQCLcBGAs/s1600/519VJhdH%252BSL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="331" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QJQQUp38EO8/W7RTUBi2XwI/AAAAAAAAC4U/Jn7eXgqX_Y0tgAi9O9VuTOA23O6n7p2PQCLcBGAs/s400/519VJhdH%252BSL.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This is familiar terrain for author Paula Finn, whose father, Herb Finn, wrote for </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Flintstones</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gilligan’s Island</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Brady Bunch</i>, among others. Part of her childhood was spent on the sets of such TV classics as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Patty Duke Show</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mr. Ed</i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That Girl</i> – experiences that surely sound like a dream come true for so many of us who longed to enter those fictional worlds for a little while.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FAZRbhedpDw/W7RTmGKYtcI/AAAAAAAAC4c/RPUmMGPKykcBRIYeVVifLPEBsfb4fxGQgCLcBGAs/s1600/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="474" height="303" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FAZRbhedpDw/W7RTmGKYtcI/AAAAAAAAC4c/RPUmMGPKykcBRIYeVVifLPEBsfb4fxGQgCLcBGAs/s400/th.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Finn uses the Q &amp; A format for her interviews, which is one I’ve always liked. Especially here, when the content provided by interviewees is the sole purpose for the existence of a book like this. She asks the questions most of us would ask to these writers, and then lets them take the floor.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">There are familiar stories here –<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Reiner on creating <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Dick Van Dyke Show</i>, Lear on his battles over the controversial content in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">All In The Family</i>. But there is much else to savor, such as how Leonard Stern recalled the challenges of working for Jackie Gleason, and the hilarious ‘notes’ he gathered from networks. One of them complained that there was “too much dancing” in a Fred Astaire special. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’ve always liked seeing the names of married couple Austin and Irma Kalish in the credits, so I was especially pleased to get to know them better, and to learn how they could catch the rhythms and sensibilities of sitcoms as different as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Family Affair</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maude</i>. And did Treva Silverman really write a couple of memorable <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mary Tyler Moore Show</i> episodes with a creative boost from marijuana?&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XbYDLojCoc8/W7RTwKGzZYI/AAAAAAAAC4g/jaqiOCEdXSkubcyUMkTMoc_OlYmS6rxZwCLcBGAs/s1600/Mary-Richards-kitchen-Mary-Tyler-Moore-Show.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="469" data-original-width="625" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XbYDLojCoc8/W7RTwKGzZYI/AAAAAAAAC4g/jaqiOCEdXSkubcyUMkTMoc_OlYmS6rxZwCLcBGAs/s400/Mary-Richards-kitchen-Mary-Tyler-Moore-Show.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The one caveat for fans of the Comfort TV era is that the last third of the book focuses on shows that aired in the 1990s and beyond – most notably <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Simpsons</i>. But even here it’s interesting to see how the shows have changed but the approach to how they are crafted has not. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">One gets the feeling that all of these writers, despite dealing with temperamental stars and humorless network executives and silly censors, still had the time of their lives. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Both <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Electronic-Mirror-Classic-Everything-Between/dp/1732620709/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1538544617&amp;sr=8-1&amp;keywords=electronic+mirror+book" target="_blank"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>The Electronic Mirror</u></i></a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sitcom-Writers-Talk-Shop-Geniuses-ebook/dp/B07FQXVHCR/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1538544443&amp;sr=8-1&amp;keywords=sitcom+writers+talk+shop" target="_blank"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>Sitcom Writers Talk Shop</u></i></a> are available from Amazon. </span></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-64774411898662637972018-09-26T14:42:00.000-07:002018-09-26T14:42:02.801-07:00Just a Really Good Episode: “Bud The Philanthropist”<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><a href="http://comforttv.blogspot.com/2013/06/breaking-1950s-conventions-on-father.html" target="_blank">In a previous blog</a> I wrote, “There’s something remarkable about <i>Father Knows Best</i>. You can watch any dozen episodes and be entertained by the wholesome charms with which this 1950s sitcom is identified. And then you’ll discover a story that is so compelling in its content that you could write a term paper about it.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-311brCSRujk/W6sOpHO0sEI/AAAAAAAAC3Q/1dvVV6D7QismL8uUyT51AyGg7h7luqcjQCLcBGAs/s1600/RT1965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="1296" height="315" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-311brCSRujk/W6sOpHO0sEI/AAAAAAAAC3Q/1dvVV6D7QismL8uUyT51AyGg7h7luqcjQCLcBGAs/s400/RT1965.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">That piece singled out some of the series’ most memorable episodes, and one of these days I’m going to do an “Unshakeables” piece on “Twenty-Four Hours in Tyrantland.” It is one of the most unique moments of television in the medium’s history.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t2sG_dB4RAo/W6sOufBvZWI/AAAAAAAAC3U/ROJ4trTiYuYC4Y8MfU3uyBJ4DKEgVDFFACLcBGAs/s1600/hqdefault-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t2sG_dB4RAo/W6sOufBvZWI/AAAAAAAAC3U/ROJ4trTiYuYC4Y8MfU3uyBJ4DKEgVDFFACLcBGAs/s400/hqdefault-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But the other night I watched “Bud the Philanthropist,” a comparatively typical series offering, and was struck once again by how smart and perceptive and entertaining an “average” episode of this 60 year-old series can be. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">When you think about TV shows from that time, and how different life in America is now compared to back then, it may seem unlikely that today’s teenagers could see themselves in their 1950s counterparts. But the situation Bud finds himself in here, and the range of emotions it generates, would be as familiar now as it was in 1954. “Bud the Philanthropist” won’t stay with you for days like “Tyrantland” or “The Bus to Nowhere,” but I found it remarkable nonetheless because of the universal truths it contains. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The episode opens with Bud and his father waxing the family car – or more like Jim waxing and Bud daydreaming. This is not an uncommon scenario on the series as Bud was a quintessential slacker. Five minutes with him in any episode will dispel any latter-day stereotypes on how 1950s sitcom kids were all perfect.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gn24vtOxt-Q/W6sPCcT8B3I/AAAAAAAAC3g/VZrrF8Jhph8fFinGwEo3N89a_N8pV446wCLcBGAs/s1600/1285017475_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gn24vtOxt-Q/W6sPCcT8B3I/AAAAAAAAC3g/VZrrF8Jhph8fFinGwEo3N89a_N8pV446wCLcBGAs/s400/1285017475_5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In this case, however, there is more to Bud’s distraction than laziness. He recounts for his dad events from Sunday school class earlier that morning, where the teacher launched a “good deed” project to help a young newspaper boy, who suffered a broken leg in a hit-and-run car accident. The idea is to raise money to buy him a radio, to help him pass the time while he’s laid up in bed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">A box is placed at the front of the classroom to collect the donations. “No one has to contribute,” the teacher says. “You only do this because you feel in your heart you want to.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Bud has a $10 bill in his pocket that he had been saving to buy new track shoes. Ten dollars in 1954 is about $100 now, so we’re not talking spare change. He has nothing smaller he can give so he walks out, feeling the stares of his classmates behind him. But a few moments later, after the room has cleared out, he returns and, reluctantly, donates the $10.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1GzB97FGZMk/W6sPH6YaMWI/AAAAAAAAC3k/MuCadS5aBRYuoL_2CGPb7-P6DLj5TBiGACLcBGAs/s1600/60050219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1024" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1GzB97FGZMk/W6sPH6YaMWI/AAAAAAAAC3k/MuCadS5aBRYuoL_2CGPb7-P6DLj5TBiGACLcBGAs/s400/60050219.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Jim expresses his pride at such generosity. “Yeah, but nobody saw me!” Bud protests. “Nobody knows I put in anything!” He wants some recognition for giving all that money to a kid he doesn’t even know. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And as the conversation continues, we hear some of the writing (by the brilliant Roswell Rogers) that makes this series so wonderful. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Bud: “Is that so wrong? To want people to say you’re a nice guy?”</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Jim: “No, of course not. But if you put in that money merely to get credit, that is wrong.” </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Bud: “Yeah, but…even if I do get credit, the money still does the same good deed, doesn’t it?”</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Jim: Well, yes, materially…but with that attitude it’s no longer a good deed on your part. It’s a bargain you’re making. You’re using your money to get a good name for yourself.” </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Bud gets the point, but still feels a little cheated. “I wish they knew so they’d know I’m the kind of guy who didn’t want them to know.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Jim laughs. “You want too much for your money. The real reward is something you feel inside of you.” As they go into the house for lunch, he tells his son, “The two most important ones in the world know: you, and (glancing toward heaven) the one who made up all these rules.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">At lunch, Betty mentions sitting next to the Sunday school teacher in choir, and learns about the good deed project. The teacher was delighted, she says, because the donations amounted to…$10.39. The reactions of Bud and Jim are priceless as they realize the other eight boys in the class couldn’t come up with 40 cents between them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Now Bud is really steamed, but he keeps his contribution anonymous. The following week, the teacher announces that the money has been raised to buy the radio, and that he could tell by “the arrangement of the contributions” that “most of the credit for this project belongs to one of our members. I’m especially proud of this boy. I don’t know who it is, and I’m sure he doesn’t want it known…but his blessings, his reward, is what he feels inside.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The rest of the class immediately jumps to the conclusion that it was another boy who gave the $10, and he in turn is given the honor of representing the school at a youth conference, and delivering the radio to its recipient. Once again, Bud protests the injustice of it all to his dad: “What do you think we ought to do about it?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3NetrCixQ6c/W6sQGWgyx9I/AAAAAAAAC30/Y33l2kp7_2MPq0tOEF6T512W-dQX1yV6wCLcBGAs/s1600/1bafbfc8ef82fd0c5e11913834916b13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="500" height="303" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3NetrCixQ6c/W6sQGWgyx9I/AAAAAAAAC30/Y33l2kp7_2MPq0tOEF6T512W-dQX1yV6wCLcBGAs/s400/1bafbfc8ef82fd0c5e11913834916b13.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Jim’s response: “Nothing." He reminds his son once again that the good deed itself is all that matters.&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">What happens next? I shouldn’t tell you everything, though I’m constantly amazed at how much story can fit into a 25-minute script on a series as well-written as this one. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Bud the Philanthropist” is a perfect little morality play, of the kind that was prevalent in prime time in a bygone age. Situation comedies don’t seem to care very much about life lessons anymore. And when you see how boorish behavior in our culture is often applauded instead of condemned, it’s easy to see why such stories have fallen out of favor. And why some of us prefer the old shows to the new ones. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">A classic TV moment? Not really. Just one of 204 episodes of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Father Knows Best</i>, each having something to say about the human condition –&nbsp;what makes us noble, what makes us flawed, and what sometimes makes us inexplicable, even to our fellow humans. But the message, always, is one that reinforces the actuality of objective moral values and why, if we’re all going to get along, it’s important to pay attention to them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">That, to me, has always been the most appealing aspect of Comfort TV.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ndlvROHTuUc/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ndlvROHTuUc?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-38482036983139612512018-09-17T16:11:00.000-07:002018-09-17T16:11:54.954-07:00Donating To Dawn Wells<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’ve been thinking a lot about the Dawn Wells crowdsourcing campaign.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uv8OwGtSwng/W58nNdyY1HI/AAAAAAAAC2s/uLUldLMAxtEGrYwPOw8fh-TlKlP1vbb5QCLcBGAs/s1600/dawn_wells-14-640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="797" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uv8OwGtSwng/W58nNdyY1HI/AAAAAAAAC2s/uLUldLMAxtEGrYwPOw8fh-TlKlP1vbb5QCLcBGAs/s400/dawn_wells-14-640.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If it is successful, as it now appears to be, will we see more attempts to rally fans in support of classic TV stars that fall on hard times? My guess is we will. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">How do you feel about that?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I know how I felt when Zach Braff, then earning $350,000 per episode on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Scrubs</i>, started a GoFundMe account to get fans to finance his next movie. I wanted to punch him in his smug face. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Of course that’s not the situation here. What we know of Dawn Wells’ plight, from the message posted by her friend who started the campaign, is that she lost her savings in “the banking crash,” and suffered further financial setbacks from a life-threatening surgery that required two months of hospitalization. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The money raised would be used to pay bills and back taxes, and to help her move into an assisted-living facility geared toward those in the film and TV industries.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-slmz3Qhw2PI/W58nStTu5iI/AAAAAAAAC2w/V76Oqex-gLE_-Fp6J3n_8x7j5lMtBqw9gCLcBGAs/s1600/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="474" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-slmz3Qhw2PI/W58nStTu5iI/AAAAAAAAC2w/V76Oqex-gLE_-Fp6J3n_8x7j5lMtBqw9gCLcBGAs/s400/th.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s sad to think of anyone who gave so much happiness to so many people winding up this way. But life, as the recent viral story about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cosby Show</i>star Geoffrey Owens working at Trader Joe’s reminds us, is not a comfort TV sitcom. At times it seems like for every Angela Cartwright there’s an Erin Moran. For every Bobby Sherman there’s a David Cassidy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Many classic TV stars are active on social media, where they share photos of their families and homes, talk about their travels (and sometimes, regrettably, their political views), and promote their upcoming appearances at nostalgia and collector shows. Must be nice, the rest of us think, to still be able to monetize a job you had when Lyndon Johnson was president, and charge 25 or 50 bucks just for signing your name to a photograph.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fohAQF4WQfc/W58nX_2g9tI/AAAAAAAAC20/XprNLnpy2LwQUaifbCtKU1BYDX_fpvHPwCLcBGAs/s1600/dawn-wells-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="881" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fohAQF4WQfc/W58nX_2g9tI/AAAAAAAAC20/XprNLnpy2LwQUaifbCtKU1BYDX_fpvHPwCLcBGAs/s400/dawn-wells-3.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I guess that’s why my first thought was, “Is this really appropriate?”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">These days we all have different standards by which we answer such questions. As someone who associates crowdsourcing campaigns with stories of regular folks facing sudden calamity, it was startling to see one dedicated to someone who has been in the public eye for half a century. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"></span><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">&nbsp;</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Is Dawn Wells more deserving than someone who spent 40 years as a schoolteacher or plumber or a mid-level company executive, who also had their retirement savings wiped out by illness or bad investments? Of course not. But she does have a much better chance than those folks in the crowdsourcing arena, because she seems like someone we already know, even though most of us have never met her.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/gNgOxi_MUY8/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gNgOxi_MUY8?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Are the donations pouring in for Dawn Wells, or are they for Mary Ann Summers, that plucky Kansas farm girl who baked scrumptious coconut cream pies?&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YkpZYODTPew/W58nna73z-I/AAAAAAAAC3A/AfIW-3FD5g80bAEMzezSAMLg9BUcJbcdwCLcBGAs/s1600/gilligan-coconut-cream-pie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YkpZYODTPew/W58nna73z-I/AAAAAAAAC3A/AfIW-3FD5g80bAEMzezSAMLg9BUcJbcdwCLcBGAs/s400/gilligan-coconut-cream-pie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">That’s a byproduct of television in general and Comfort TV in particular. You invite characters into your home every day as you would friends, and you look forward to spending time with them. You can remember times when you were home sick from school, and a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gilligan’s Island</i> episode came on that made you forget about your flu for a while.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Is that worth a few bucks? I think so. And if Tina Louise starts a GoFundMe as well, perhaps we’ll decide the “Ginger or Mary Ann?” question once and for all. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">P.S. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"></span><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">As of this writing: The campaign has raised more than $191,000 toward a goal of $194,000.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>So as long as Ms. Wells avoids ill-fated three-hour tours, she should be fine. I’m glad.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/S3HFXSgWps8/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/S3HFXSgWps8?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">&nbsp;</span> </div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-33793710486434414192018-09-07T13:41:00.000-07:002018-09-07T13:41:17.698-07:00The Five Worst Comfort TV Opening Credits Sequences<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Remember “Too Many Cooks?” It was a parody of the sweet but corny opening credits sequences found on countless TV shows from the 1970s and ‘80s.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YOts5SsTH74/W5HvP0wMvXI/AAAAAAAAC10/08cQtOJMjBgTTliiTsma0Ijm6tfUB3QVQCLcBGAs/s1600/80s-titlecards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YOts5SsTH74/W5HvP0wMvXI/AAAAAAAAC10/08cQtOJMjBgTTliiTsma0Ijm6tfUB3QVQCLcBGAs/s400/80s-titlecards.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Like much in this age of fleeting fads it was everywhere for a while and then cast into the pop culture scrap heap.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/gpAB5KW34NI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gpAB5KW34NI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I thought they pushed it too far, but before it progressed to twisted extremes it definitely nailed the look and feel of those vintage introductions. You could have inserted the season two credits for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Angie</i> into the mix and no one would have been the wiser.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Yky9nmqcPwg/W5Hv0cSqmCI/AAAAAAAAC18/0Yhprm2shh0TGh7jblg14_HK5IxlnVWqQCLcBGAs/s1600/angie-different-worlds-maureen-mcgovern-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="356" data-original-width="500" height="283" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Yky9nmqcPwg/W5Hv0cSqmCI/AAAAAAAAC18/0Yhprm2shh0TGh7jblg14_HK5IxlnVWqQCLcBGAs/s400/angie-different-worlds-maureen-mcgovern-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I’ve always had a particular fondness for credit sequences, because with each new show and sometimes each new season you never knew what you were going to get. It’s an exercise in creative marketing that I compared to movie posters back when I used to collect them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">There is no correlation between the quality of a film and the quality of the poster that promoted its exhibition. Some of the most beautiful and sought-after one-sheets advertised forgettable films, while several classics inspired unimaginative images.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s the same with the opening credit sequences. Some matched the quality of the series they introduced. Others did not, but were granted a pass from fans because of their proximity to beloved shows. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">No such passes will be given here. In choosing the five worst Comfort TV opening credits sequences, it would be easy to cherry-pick terrible examples from forgotten shows like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sirota’s Court</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Misfits of Science</i>. But let’s go after some bigger game.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/DODxamw690g/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DODxamw690g?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Gidget</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This is a show about a smart and free-spirited Southern California beach girl in 1965. Surf rock dominated radio that year, with the Beach Boys releasing “Help Me Rhonda” and “California Girls.” As Chandler Bing might say, “Could there be a more natural tie-in?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But instead of reverb guitars and odes to Wilson brother harmonies, the theme song by Johnny Tillotson sounds like the kind of 1950s pop you’d expect to introduce <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My Little Margie</i> ten years earlier. If they had to go in that direction, they should have kept the cocktail pop song used in the 1959 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gidget</i> film, sung by James Darren. Even that one has more oomph.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d4Wt8I1Laj4/W5HwFpZtd2I/AAAAAAAAC2E/yFatcLWqM049rWwoZvl-T-i4WvIvouREwCLcBGAs/s1600/85f3c433a584c9a46764b175c5ce3e77--sally-fields-tv-land.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d4Wt8I1Laj4/W5HwFpZtd2I/AAAAAAAAC2E/yFatcLWqM049rWwoZvl-T-i4WvIvouREwCLcBGAs/s400/85f3c433a584c9a46764b175c5ce3e77--sally-fields-tv-land.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It’s not just the music that disappoints. The sequence consists of a succession of still photos, not taken from the series, that accomplish something almost impossible – they make Sally Field look less than adorable.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/hO-Mv13oaOU/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hO-Mv13oaOU?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The jazz theme is more appropriate to Dobie’s sidekick Maynard G. Krebs, though by the end of the first season TV’s original beatnik had already begun his transition into Gilligan with a goatee. And the crude animation depicting Dobie as a sinister-looking peeping tom<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>also doesn’t match the girl-crazy but mild-mannered character played by Duane Hickman.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cKTGgiter0o/W5HwX1qdzVI/AAAAAAAAC2M/wV0f0aQ1ItQc2uTmTN-e7xLZZ2a53H6ggCLcBGAs/s1600/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cKTGgiter0o/W5HwX1qdzVI/AAAAAAAAC2M/wV0f0aQ1ItQc2uTmTN-e7xLZZ2a53H6ggCLcBGAs/s400/hqdefault.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Phyllis</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Here we have the opening credit sequence as a 55-second joke, from set-up to punch line. Maybe you think the idea is funny, but is it still funny by episode 17?&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YutkostmPXM/W5HwdnTmPfI/AAAAAAAAC2Q/2hvVy_13FvkFmOcZgXpM8-boPtnmkOU5gCLcBGAs/s1600/phyllis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="845" data-original-width="1203" height="280" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YutkostmPXM/W5HwdnTmPfI/AAAAAAAAC2Q/2hvVy_13FvkFmOcZgXpM8-boPtnmkOU5gCLcBGAs/s400/phyllis.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And even though in 1975 we were not yet the hypersensitive nation we’ve since become, I’m surprised more people were not taken aback by an intro that opens with a line of minstrel show performers in blackface.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UqgcDRskYTo/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UqgcDRskYTo?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Ropers</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This one almost reaches the point where it’s so bad it almost comes around to being good again. Certainly the music has an earworm quality, but just having the cast stand one by one before different colored backdrops and do silly bits of business makes the whole sequence looks like something that was conceived and shot in about 20 minutes. And why is Patricia McCormack playing tennis?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jdC9nJzZNyI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jdC9nJzZNyI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Lucy Show</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I grew up watching this series in syndication, when every episode opened with the Kaleidoscope-style credits that debuted in season four. But in its original run, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Lucy Show</i> tried and discarded other credit sequences that were unworthy of a TV icon. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The show’s third season was introduced with a seemingly random assemblage of episode clips, both black and white and color, that play to overly whimsical music snippets. According to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Lucy Book</i> the visual discrepancy didn’t matter as the series was still being telecast in black and white – but now it just looks sloppy. However, even that attempt was preferable to the one introduced in season five, which had Lucy’s head popping out of an animated jack-in-the-box, while multicolored balls bounced around the screen, with appropriately cheesy musical accompaniment.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hJ5pP9wNrgI/W5HxEkWhnSI/AAAAAAAAC2g/T1WTAlYeWaE3xJmRLaw8iMuebTDZEhjvgCLcBGAs/s1600/tls-s5-03.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="699" height="303" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hJ5pP9wNrgI/W5HxEkWhnSI/AAAAAAAAC2g/T1WTAlYeWaE3xJmRLaw8iMuebTDZEhjvgCLcBGAs/s400/tls-s5-03.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It was used only on one episode before the show reverted back to the previous season’s credits, but has been preserved for posterity on the season five DVD set. </span></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-63618960089296221062018-08-29T15:05:00.000-07:002018-08-29T15:05:16.082-07:00Top TV Moments: Howard Cosell<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Howard Cosell occupies a unique place in the Comfort TV era. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">As a sportscaster he was both revered and reviled enough to transcend almost any event he covered. Cosell’s enthusiastic fan base appreciated his no-nonsense candor and rebukes of corrupt institutions. But there were also those who couldn’t stand his big ego and oft-mocked hair, and would change the channel to avoid even a moment in his company.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ieb0aSacOZs/W4Ykz28jVNI/AAAAAAAAC04/ov8YZ9HIrC8j1cSHT3wL2jGRJkNkU5M_QCLcBGAs/s1600/Battle-of-the-network-stars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="600" height="210" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ieb0aSacOZs/W4Ykz28jVNI/AAAAAAAAC04/ov8YZ9HIrC8j1cSHT3wL2jGRJkNkU5M_QCLcBGAs/s400/Battle-of-the-network-stars.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Hmmm…sounds like a certain Commander in Chief. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In the pre-cable era, before ESPN turned many sportscasters into household names, Cosell’s was the voice associated with any sporting match of significance that aired on ABC, from The Olympics to the World Series to championship boxing, as well as the famed “Battle of the Sexes” tennis match between Bobby Riggs and Billie Jean King. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">He reached the pinnacle of his profession but remained a deeply insecure man who may have wished to be liked as much as he was respected. That might explain his forays into other types of television, from sitcoms to variety shows to a series of celebrity competitions that are as beloved by this blog as any 1970s TV classic. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Monday Night Football (1970-1983)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If you’re looking for the moment when football began to surpass baseball as America’s national pastime, this is it. These weekly primetime games were appointment TV in homes and bars across the country, especially during the years when the broadcast booth was manned by Howard Cosell, Frank Gifford and Don Meredith. At halftime, Cosell’s narration of Sunday game highlights set a standard that would be emulated by everyone from George Michael to Chris Berman.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MIc6m0I7xYM/W4Yk4ofG14I/AAAAAAAAC08/rP4v2EkPSTkFP5Us9ZynAztYpfEQvP24QCLcBGAs/s1600/ABC-MNF-1977-13869_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="700" height="301" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MIc6m0I7xYM/W4Yk4ofG14I/AAAAAAAAC08/rP4v2EkPSTkFP5Us9ZynAztYpfEQvP24QCLcBGAs/s400/ABC-MNF-1977-13869_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Partridge Family (1971)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">What would any 1970s sitcom be without an ecology episode? “Whatever Happened to Moby Dick?” finds the Partridges singing to save the whales at Marineland.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/RDiwB24jz40/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RDiwB24jz40?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">When a legal snafu threatens the project, Howard Cosell steps in to help Shirley and her family save the day. It seems like an odd assignment for a famed sportscaster; perhaps ABC figured a little extra star power would help this atypical episode.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CINlc5Rosvg/W4Ylj_E-htI/AAAAAAAAC1I/j5t5yhsrX6wOhZEBVM1zkhoPyVXenOwWwCLcBGAs/s1600/9a468ade2b7bac01d38c417f30a88ca2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CINlc5Rosvg/W4Ylj_E-htI/AAAAAAAAC1I/j5t5yhsrX6wOhZEBVM1zkhoPyVXenOwWwCLcBGAs/s400/9a468ade2b7bac01d38c417f30a88ca2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Nanny and the Professor (1971)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">What’s odd about “Sunday’s Hero” is that, for the first and only time in a situation comedy, Howard Cosell plays a character other than himself. Here he’s Miles Taylor, a colleague of Professor Everett who arranges a pick-up football game between the faculty and some local college and high school students.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AbqWpzzMHCs/W4YlnlOD0GI/AAAAAAAAC1M/BlZFEAh7rWET8J957MXbVgxhYTaFkPMwgCLcBGAs/s1600/Sundays.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="217" data-original-width="266" height="324" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AbqWpzzMHCs/W4YlnlOD0GI/AAAAAAAAC1M/BlZFEAh7rWET8J957MXbVgxhYTaFkPMwgCLcBGAs/s400/Sundays.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Fol-de-Rol (1972)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This pilot for a prime-time series from Sid &amp; Marty Krofft is a fascinating failure. Set at a Renaissance-style “pleasure fair,” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fol-de-Rol</i> featured such stars as Rick Nelson, Cyd Charisse, Ann Sothern, Totie Fields and Mickey Rooney interacting with various Krofft plush creations. Cosell appears in a skit about Noah’s ark, in which he describes the journey of “a good little man against a good big storm,” and interviews passengers like “Mr. Lion” and “Mr. Pelican” while a chorus jams to George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord.” You can understand why the show aired once and disappeared, but like any Krofft project it has wonderful music and captivating moments amidst the slapstick and cornball jokes. If you watch it on YouTube, don’t blame me if the opening theme gets stuck in your head for days. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Odd Couple (1972)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This is the best of Howard Cosell’s sitcom appearances, since the show’s premise lent itself naturally to a guest spot from a renowned sportscaster. “Big Mouth” put Oscar Madison into the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Monday Night Football</i> booth next to Cosell, where their long-simmering feud continues during the game. Like many print journalists, Oscar finds the transition to TV difficult, and freezes on the air. “There’s nothing wrong with your television sets, ladies and gentleman,” Cosell says during one of those moments, “It's just Oscar Madison telling you all he knows about football.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_VjeYwIR7Tg/W4Yls2pjlXI/AAAAAAAAC1Q/m-AZk_Z0H0kScLkNYC1PwSOh97ulJbJfgCLcBGAs/s1600/CBS_ODD_COUPLE_051_CONTENT_CIAN_455839_1928_1280x720_394752067682_496215_640x360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_VjeYwIR7Tg/W4Yls2pjlXI/AAAAAAAAC1Q/m-AZk_Z0H0kScLkNYC1PwSOh97ulJbJfgCLcBGAs/s400/CBS_ODD_COUPLE_051_CONTENT_CIAN_455839_1928_1280x720_394752067682_496215_640x360.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Frank Sinatra – The Main Event ­(1974)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">After retiring from the concert stage in 1970, Frank Sinatra made a triumphant return with this live performance from New York’s Madison Square Garden. Howard Cosell’s (allegedly) ad-libbed introduction of Sinatra – which runs nearly three minutes – is nearly as famous as the show itself. Near its climax, Cosell’s voice battles Woody Herman’s orchestra for aural supremacy and doesn’t give any ground.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/aWA_gMzr2NA/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aWA_gMzr2NA?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Saturday Night Live With Howard Cosell (1975)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">With eclectic lineups of actors, comedians, musicians, politicians and sports stars, some beamed in via satellite from remote corners of the world long before that became commonplace, this variety series was an ambitious experiment that would probably be more interesting to watch now than it was back in 1975. How could any show be boring with Frank Sinatra, John Wayne, Linda Ronstadt, Bob Hope, Tony Bennett, Roberta Peters and Evel Knievel? Even the segments that bombed back then would fun to watch, like a singing duet featuring Cosell and Barbara Walters. I want this on DVD now.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/nQ8H8_OFZJs/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nQ8H8_OFZJs?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Battle of the Network Stars (1976-1988)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Cosell hosted 18 of the 19 Battle shows, in which he was happily paired with such lovely cohosts as Suzanne Somers, Erin Gray, Donna Mills and Morgan Fairchild. No wonder he kept coming back. Sports purist that he was, this might have seemed like an uncomfortable match at first, but he clearly enjoy his semi-annual visits to Pepperdine University, being kissed by the pretty starlets and teasing Gabe Kaplan on his inability to keep a kayak straight. He also genuinely admired the effort and joy of competition put forth by the actors, having already become jaded by the attitudes of many professional athletes.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qnt_aaG2qgc/W4YmJVuSsnI/AAAAAAAAC1g/55QcBeaqwwQN_4lawK5zwhpmfS8Ib8zjwCLcBGAs/s1600/gettyimages-93408271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qnt_aaG2qgc/W4YmJVuSsnI/AAAAAAAAC1g/55QcBeaqwwQN_4lawK5zwhpmfS8Ib8zjwCLcBGAs/s400/gettyimages-93408271.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Carpenters First Television Special (1976)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Unfortunately, we don’t get to hear Howard sing with Karen as he did with Barbara Walters. Instead, he’s calling the action from Riverside Raceway, where Richard Carpenter matches his skills against professional drivers Al Unser and Danny Ongias. Not exactly what fans of the duo’s music hoped to see. Thankfully, the rest of the special is wonderful. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries (1977)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In “The Mystery of the Solid Gold Kicker,” college football star Chip Garvey (Mark Harmon) is framed for murder and then blackmailed by gamblers. Thankfully, Nancy Drew is on the case. Howard Cosell’s appearances here are restricted to the broadcast booth, where his fervent play-calling adds authenticity to the big-game atmosphere, but it would have been more fun if he had interacted with Nancy and the other characters. At least he finally met Harmon while celebrating the actor’s remarkable obstacle course runs on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Battle of the Network Stars</i>.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9HQKpsAsZqQ/W4YmPCarOgI/AAAAAAAAC1k/KwuNCvz9JE4LOLvSM8CraIbS8y2ClgavgCLcBGAs/s1600/team-captains-mark-harmon-and-william-shatner-shook-hands-before-the-picture-id93407174.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="429" data-original-width="612" height="280" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9HQKpsAsZqQ/W4YmPCarOgI/AAAAAAAAC1k/KwuNCvz9JE4LOLvSM8CraIbS8y2ClgavgCLcBGAs/s400/team-captains-mark-harmon-and-william-shatner-shook-hands-before-the-picture-id93407174.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-61656730085686007502018-08-20T15:14:00.000-07:002018-08-20T15:14:16.385-07:00An Open Letter to the Worst Entertainment Critic On the Planet<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">To: Chris Nashawaty</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Entertainment Weekly</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> magazine</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Sir,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">My blood pressure goes up every time I read one of your articles. That was negligible when I was in my 40s, but now I’m at the age where people take pills for that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This isn’t about disagreeing with your reviews; everybody has those moments with critics. Ken Tucker, who used to head up your magazine’s TV coverage, hates both <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Brady Bunch</i> and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Lou Grant</i>, two of my favorite television classics. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GMNCjnE6t0c/W3o6dKEG78I/AAAAAAAAC0E/K3Thqk-DBbsq7pDAzffykdTQVqc-QkZ1QCLcBGAs/s1600/39543589_1174877892651101_8058342190511816704_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="620" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GMNCjnE6t0c/W3o6dKEG78I/AAAAAAAAC0E/K3Thqk-DBbsq7pDAzffykdTQVqc-QkZ1QCLcBGAs/s400/39543589_1174877892651101_8058342190511816704_n.jpg" width="372" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">That’s fine – I respect people with different opinions if they are intelligently expressed. He watched them and didn’t like them. It happens. I think we’d have some interesting discussions.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Here’s how you are different from Tucker – you write about subjects and assess their artistic merits without having experienced them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">How do I know this –&nbsp;well, let’s go back to the first time I noticed your byline about 10 years ago, as I was paging through the then-current issue of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">EW</i> while waiting in line at the post office. The topic of the piece was your assertion that no comedy was still funny if it was shot in black and white. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Think of that: in one sweeping generalization you summarily dismissed the entire works of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton, The Three Stooges and The Marx Brothers, Laurel &amp; Hardy and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thin Man</i> movies, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">His Girl Friday</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Some Like It Hot</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">And on television, which is close to our hearts around here, you condemned Sid Caesar and Ernie Kovacs, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Love Lucy</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Dick Van Dyke Show</i>, the first two seasons of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bewitched</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Addams Family</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Adventures of Ozzie &amp; Harriet</i>; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Honeymooners</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Phil Silvers Show</i>.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9X48AxcHOn4/W3o7GIQTFgI/AAAAAAAAC0M/9JqI6xGd1wcQk0FPeE8zy_YRRNFgn4BBwCLcBGAs/s1600/dick-van-dyke-show-sally-is-a-girl-episode-2nd-outfit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1064" height="287" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9X48AxcHOn4/W3o7GIQTFgI/AAAAAAAAC0M/9JqI6xGd1wcQk0FPeE8zy_YRRNFgn4BBwCLcBGAs/s400/dick-van-dyke-show-sally-is-a-girl-episode-2nd-outfit.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Apparently, you decided that any film or television show made before a certain date is no longer relevant or worth your time. In this blog, which focuses exclusively on the television from generations past, you can understand how that touches a nerve.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JtuDNCztZfA/W3o7XM_icZI/AAAAAAAAC0U/2LQsF55UIGUylumyy-sRT_V84oJRz_F7QCLcBGAs/s1600/013-the-addams-family-theredlist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="768" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JtuDNCztZfA/W3o7XM_icZI/AAAAAAAAC0U/2LQsF55UIGUylumyy-sRT_V84oJRz_F7QCLcBGAs/s400/013-the-addams-family-theredlist.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wrong Finger, Thing</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It also calls into question your credentials as a critic of anything, since one quality essential to that profession is knowledge that surpasses that of your readers. If someone is going to be paid to review Broadway musicals, he or she has to know not just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hamilton</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dear Evan Hansen</i>, but also <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Show Boat</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Carousel</i>, and to be really conversant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">On Your Toes</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lady In the Dark</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Television is the same. You don’t have to prefer old stuff to new stuff, or have the same affection for it shared by those who grew up with these shows. But you need to be aware of them, and have some first-hand experience of them, and understand their importance and their influence on everything that followed.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_tiOyuL2Voc/W3o8gjMaw9I/AAAAAAAAC0g/FC9LAVFa16ozg_bbkYYoMoPZgrbv8al2gCLcBGAs/s1600/HT_I_Love_Lucy_Medicine_MEM_161014_4x3_992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="992" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_tiOyuL2Voc/W3o8gjMaw9I/AAAAAAAAC0g/FC9LAVFa16ozg_bbkYYoMoPZgrbv8al2gCLcBGAs/s400/HT_I_Love_Lucy_Medicine_MEM_161014_4x3_992.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">When you wrote that piece you lacked that perspective. I’m guessing you were in your 20s, when a lot of writers (myself included) first started getting published, and thought we knew a lot more than we did. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Here’s the good news: If you live to be 100, you’ll never write anything that dumb again. So at least you got it out of your system early. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">I had hoped your judgment had evolved in the interim, but that brings me to the reason for this letter: your recent review of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mission Impossible: Fallout</i>confirmed you’re still up to your old tricks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">This was the line that had me asking my doctor about a Beta-blocker prescription: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“Twenty-two years after (Tom) Cruise first rebooted the hokey TV espionage series…” </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">“hokey”? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">You could have written “classic” or “popular,” or excised the adjective altogether, but instead you chose “hokey”? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">See, that’s something Ken Tucker would never have done. I don’t know if he liked <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mission: Impossible</i> but he wouldn’t call it hokey, because good writers know what words mean before they use them.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k9eHkkKsdzQ/W3o8nSQ7I0I/AAAAAAAAC0k/ysyz8UEjLQkwIY5Xte8XMsbQwtcn6qutACLcBGAs/s1600/b576d9541cabbf842a89fb04bb824ebb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="619" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k9eHkkKsdzQ/W3o8nSQ7I0I/AAAAAAAAC0k/ysyz8UEjLQkwIY5Xte8XMsbQwtcn6qutACLcBGAs/s400/b576d9541cabbf842a89fb04bb824ebb.jpg" width="321" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a Hokey Bunch</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oxford Dictionary</i> defines “hokey” as “mawkishly sentimental.” You would be hard-pressed to find a trace of sentimentality in any of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mission: Impossible</i>’s 171 episodes. The agents of the IM Force carried out their missions with a cold and clinical professionalism, detached from friends, family or any emotional ties. Sure, you saw concern when Cinnamon was captured in “The Exchange,” but the mission still took precedence even as rescue options were considered. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If you thought that description was appropriate, I can only conclude that you’ve never actually watched the show. Or did you just need an insult, and that was the word that popped into your head? What’s the difference, as long as the point was made that Tom Cruise took some silly old TV show and turned it into something worth watching. How fortunate we are that today’s creative geniuses in Hollywood are able to create such masterpieces from such feeble, passé source material.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Where does this hostility toward the past come from? Please tell me you’re not in that group that shuns yesterday’s pop culture because it wasn’t as inclusive and enlightened (some say) as it is now. Is that it? Will you never watch <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eight is Enough</i> because there were eight kids and not one of them was gay or adopted from Guatemala? I know those are the only kinds of folks EW is hiring these days, which is why the magazine has devolved into <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Huffington Post</i> with an occasional piece on Carly Rae Jepsen.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ozdN4fjpEA0/W3o8vNiPfuI/AAAAAAAAC0o/u1-7msxnbT8xFg4C9PBgMk2jCJr4ucPIACLcBGAs/s1600/Eight-is-Enough_article_story_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="1012" height="268" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ozdN4fjpEA0/W3o8vNiPfuI/AAAAAAAAC0o/u1-7msxnbT8xFg4C9PBgMk2jCJr4ucPIACLcBGAs/s400/Eight-is-Enough_article_story_large.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#Bradfordssowhite</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">In the end I guess it doesn’t matter. You’ll keep writing, and for some reason I’ll keep reading and suffering the potential health risks of doing so. I look forward to your take on the next <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Star Trek</i> film, when you’ll no doubt celebrate how this stodgy old franchise finally ditched all that talk about ethics and morals, and replaced them with explosions and motorcycle chases. Nothing hokey about that. </span></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1130871072830136009.post-89007981549370690852018-08-10T15:12:00.000-07:002018-08-10T15:12:53.210-07:00Classic TV’s Curtain Call: 1989<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">It has always been this blog’s assertion that the 1980s was the last classic TV decade. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">That doesn’t mean television hasn’t introduced memorable shows in the years since. It refers instead to how our relationship to the medium began to change in the 1990s, a trend that continues to the present day.</span><span style="color: #333333;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Cable and satellite television added hundreds of viewing options to our TV menu. As a result, viewership for even the most celebrated shows has been greatly diminished. VCRs, DVRs and streaming services all allowed viewers to watch programs whenever they liked. So even if 10 million people eventually catch the same episode of&nbsp;<i>Westworld</i>, they didn’t all watch at the same time.&nbsp;</span><span style="color: #333333;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">For better or worse, new channels and new technology have abolished the communal pop culture experience that television once provided.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gBhu5vK54D4/W20eTTwhChI/AAAAAAAACy8/u1TEBgPHKEkxGYu2njt93eMM_K4Vq9DMACLcBGAs/s1600/GettyImages-56854713-e1461713524822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="618" height="310" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gBhu5vK54D4/W20eTTwhChI/AAAAAAAACy8/u1TEBgPHKEkxGYu2njt93eMM_K4Vq9DMACLcBGAs/s400/GettyImages-56854713-e1461713524822.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">That experience, to me, is what separates the classic TV era from our current TV age.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If we go with that premise, 1989 was the final year of the classic TV era. And what’s amazing is how a closer look at the shows that debuted and ended their runs in that year make a convincing case for our hypothesis – the old order of things have passed away, as television stepped into a more tumultuous future. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Hello: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Arsenio Hall Show</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Pat Sajak Show</i></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">If you were a betting man in 1989 you might have put your money on Sajak having the more successful launch, though both series aired opposite the still dominant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tonight Show</i> with Johnny Carson. Sajak had higher name recognition from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wheel of Fortune</i>, and he was the very model of an amiable, quick-witted, good-mannered young man from the Midwest. That’s the kind of host TV executives believed audiences wanted to watch before drifting off to dreamland.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8lPZT2yz2mw/W20ebN1rJpI/AAAAAAAACzA/2q6PYnfwYXo7RgiGtJHRcO_EU_SFwhAaACLcBGAs/s1600/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="474" height="290" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8lPZT2yz2mw/W20ebN1rJpI/AAAAAAAACzA/2q6PYnfwYXo7RgiGtJHRcO_EU_SFwhAaACLcBGAs/s400/th.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Sajak enjoyed the additional advantage of having his show carried by CBS, while <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Arsenio Hall Show</i> played in syndication. But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Pat Sajak Show</i>was gone in about a year, while Arsenio made the cover of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time</i>, put the first real dent in Carson’s ratings, and owned the under-30 audience by booking pop stars and athletes and wrestlers that would never be invited onto Carson’s couch. By the time presidential candidate Bill Clinton showed up to play <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Heartbreak Hotel</i> on the sax, it was obvious that the formulas that worked on TV for 30 years were no longer reliable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iOuenfg1zSQ/W20efOAOPTI/AAAAAAAACzE/9OaOuSUQOSc8SuVRbc4npXZx8cKlV7kpACLcBGAs/s1600/arsenio-hall-show-clinton-sax.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="459" data-original-width="640" height="286" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iOuenfg1zSQ/W20efOAOPTI/AAAAAAAACzE/9OaOuSUQOSc8SuVRbc4npXZx8cKlV7kpACLcBGAs/s400/arsenio-hall-show-clinton-sax.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Goodbye: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">American Bandstand</i></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">The revolution in music brought about by Napster and iTunes was still a few years away, but the cancelation of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">American Bandstand</i>, a television staple since 1952, illustrated how music no longer needed Dick Clark to gain exposure. MTV, which debuted in 1981, made Clark’s weekly dance party look like the relic from the past that it was.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QIfaUj-qpBc/W20ejYzq-UI/AAAAAAAACzM/k6otIe0NthU1dtwe1j1Laak_9WMMSisMQCLcBGAs/s1600/00b17e6359e6b3d803d180cac08c404a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="637" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QIfaUj-qpBc/W20ejYzq-UI/AAAAAAAACzM/k6otIe0NthU1dtwe1j1Laak_9WMMSisMQCLcBGAs/s400/00b17e6359e6b3d803d180cac08c404a.jpg" width="317" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Hello: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Seinfeld</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Simpsons</i></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">While 1989 also featured the debuts of such traditional situation comedies as <i>Coach</i>, <i>Anything But Love</i>, <i>Major Dad</i> and <i>Family Matters</i>, the year’s two most successful new sitcoms, in both ratings and cultural impact, were groundbreaking in format and clearly belong more to our current TV age than the one it followed. <i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Seinfeld</i></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"> was too subversive to be considered an heir to sitcoms from generations past. Its objective was not to function within the format, but to undermine it with a cynical self-awareness. That it did so brilliantly cannot be denied. And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Simpsons</i>? It’s still on, after more than 600 episodes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Goodbye: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sale of the Century</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Super Password</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Card Sharks</i></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">All three of these long-running shows left us in 1989, opening up valuable morning broadcast real estate to the likes of Jerry Springer and Maury Povich. Game shows are still with us – high-tech new ones and MA-rated revivals of the classics. But only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Price is Right</i> soldiers on in a format that would be recognizable to someone who stopped watching TV in the 1980s.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NsCWqKYrwxk/W20erOWqKPI/AAAAAAAACzU/C1rMNfTJhBIqMTVn3kpg0gUNIQo-JW0gwCLcBGAs/s1600/d3f2331924780cfbb9e557c249acf1c2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="704" height="272" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NsCWqKYrwxk/W20erOWqKPI/AAAAAAAACzU/C1rMNfTJhBIqMTVn3kpg0gUNIQo-JW0gwCLcBGAs/s400/d3f2331924780cfbb9e557c249acf1c2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Hello: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">COPS</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rescue 911</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">America’s Funniest Home Videos</i></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Who needs actors? Who needs scripts? The reality TV genre rolled into 1989 with hit shows featuring police officers chasing perps through dark alleys, paramedics pulling drivers out of car accidents, and camcorder footage of Uncle Charlie doubling over after little Timmy bats a whiffle ball into his crotch. What a golden age it was.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PAhZlq-CWZc/W20ew2b6yRI/AAAAAAAACzc/ScRt33fEoBgqGJbjbQLvGImDY4cDt1TtwCLcBGAs/s1600/Bob-Saget-holding-a-camcorder-americas-funniest-home-videos-40545600-612-380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="612" height="247" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PAhZlq-CWZc/W20ew2b6yRI/AAAAAAAACzc/ScRt33fEoBgqGJbjbQLvGImDY4cDt1TtwCLcBGAs/s400/Bob-Saget-holding-a-camcorder-americas-funniest-home-videos-40545600-612-380.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Goodbye: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ryan’s Hope</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dynasty</i></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Two popular soaps, one daytime, one nighttime, would not survive to see the 1990s. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dynasty</i> had run its course by 1989 so that cancelation was not painful.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-65BV0XM6bGo/W20e2Clyt7I/AAAAAAAACzk/A4NELYCBM-wsUGKcJm7SBa68S03uJsnIQCLcBGAs/s1600/DYNASTY%252B-%252BSeason%252B2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="210" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-65BV0XM6bGo/W20e2Clyt7I/AAAAAAAACzk/A4NELYCBM-wsUGKcJm7SBa68S03uJsnIQCLcBGAs/s400/DYNASTY%252B-%252BSeason%252B2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ryan’s Hope </i>had been revitalized by writer Claire Labine and deserved more time to be rediscovered by the audience that left after too many dead-end storylines and recasts of pivotal characters. I still miss Maeve Ryan singing “Danny Boy” at the family bar.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/cYUEsW13Oi0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cYUEsW13Oi0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Other notable 1989 debuts: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nightingales</i>, branded as Aaron Spelling’s attempt to revive <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Charlie’s Angels</i> with nurses, and canceled after 13 episodes.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ND0F_p6lUaI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ND0F_p6lUaI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Quantum Leap</i> with Scott Bakula; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Saved By the Bell</i>, the Gen-X <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brady Bunch</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Baywatch</i>, the slow motion jiggle series Aaron Spelling wishes he created instead of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nightingales</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chicken Soup</i>, a very funny sitcom that was pulled off the air by ABC, despite high ratings, because of inflammatory statements made by its star, stand-up comedian Jackie Mason. </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;">Well, at least some things haven’t changed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UEfx3xj927s/W20floCLOfI/AAAAAAAACz4/IHh5yYjZkRENSawu2SWgpgB_gkUmT5HJACLcBGAs/s1600/standup%2Bsitcoms%2Bjackie%2Bmason.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="450" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UEfx3xj927s/W20floCLOfI/AAAAAAAACz4/IHh5yYjZkRENSawu2SWgpgB_gkUmT5HJACLcBGAs/s400/standup%2Bsitcoms%2Bjackie%2Bmason.jpg" width="312" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;optima&quot;;"><br /></span></div><style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Optima; panose-1:2 0 5 3 6 0 0 2 0 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style>David Hofstedehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15288510542472710879noreply@blogger.com7